


Moonbeam

by TigereyesF



Category: Thranduil - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Sex, Angry Thranduil, Angst - Isn't There Always, Author Likes To Respond To Comments, Caring Thranduil, Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Erotic Thranduil, F/M, Fear, Revenge attack, Slow Burn, Thranduil Love, Thranduil Lust, Thranduil Sex, angry female character, comments welcome, lost character, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 73,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigereyesF/pseuds/TigereyesF
Summary: Thranduil gives a place of refuge to an elleth and her young child, saving their lives and giving them protection. Centuries later, he is ambushed in the forest by a furious female, who challenges him in a fight to the death. Rage, tears, and truths emerge, and he is stunned at the elleth's identity. Could it possibly be the same child who had run riot in his palace hundreds of years before, creating mischief at every turn and leading a young Legolas down a path of anarchy? And if it was, why was it her mission to take his life?As both struggle to come to terms with what they know, feelings change, and the King finds himself falling in love with the inferno of angry fire who destroys the defences around his heart. Can they find a way to overcome the past and be together? Or will the lies and betrayal keep them as enemies until time runs out? A shocking twist ruins a peaceful lull between the two, creating even more heartache, as events crash out of control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a Thranduil Imagine. I've taken the basic Imagine and rolled it around in my mind several times, and the following tale is the result. I've pulled different phrases and sayings from DOS and BOTFA; otherwise, all other dialogue is mine.

** CHAPTER ONE **

****

The green, leafy surroundings flashed past as the elleth hurtled through the woods, frantically trying to outrun her pursuers. The woodlands were dense around her; branches catching on her skirts and her body as she ran. Her chest hurt as she panted hard for breath, and her legs ached. Her head whipped round to measure how much distance there was between herself and her predators, her heart falling as she realised the gap between them was closing rapidly.

She pushed on, her heart pounding and her lungs burning. Sounds of the large beasts crashing through the undergrowth behind her filled her ears, causing her terror to spike even higher. She elbowed her way through the foliage, grabbing branches and using them to propel her body faster. The ground beneath her feet was slippery from recent rain, and she slid as she fought for purchase.

Scrambling quickly up the embankment that loomed up in front of her, she grasped exposed roots and hauled herself up towards the crest. Branches behind her snapped as heavy bodies charged after her, a heavy stench filling the surrounding air. Growls and distorted speech filtered past her as she fled for her life.

She was almost at the top when something grabbed her ankle, and she fell with a scream. The air around her split as an arrow flew past her and the grip loosened instantly. She flipped forwards and continued to make for safety as she caught sight of several armed patrol guards lining up their arrows. The succession of missiles shot by and they hurried past her, sliding down the muddy slope with swords drawn. The deafening clash of steel echoed through the woods, accompanied by war cries and screams of death.

She fell to her knees at the top of the embankment, dirty, soaked, and exhausted.

Almost immediately, hands gripped her upper arms and dragged her to her feet, and she found herself being led through the forest, held on either side by guards.

*****

Thranduil lazed on his throne, his disdainful gaze sweeping the vast, cavernous area. His ice blue eyes settled on the captain of the patrol unit that had returned in the last half hour as he hurried along the walkway towards him. He crossed one long leg over the other as he awaited the guard’s approach, casually drumming his fingers on the arm of the throne.

“My Lord,” the captain greeted him, sinking down onto one knee and bowing in respect.

“What news is there from your patrol?” the King asked, his tone bored already.

The captain rose to his feet. “We have apprehended a trespasser,” he informed him.

One heavy eyebrow arched in interest.

“An elleth,” the guard continued. “She was being hunted by a group of orcs.”

“And what became of them?” Thranduil asked.

“We slaughtered them at the scene,” he replied. “The prisoner is down in the lower hall under guard, my Lord.”

The King inhaled through his nose. What was a lone elleth doing in his forest? And why was she being hunted? “Very well. Bring her to me for questioning,” he commanded. “I wish to hear what she has to say.”

“Very good, my Lord,” the captain answered with a bow, and swiftly retraced his steps.

Thranduil watched him disappear from sight, his mind curious.

Before long, the guard returned, accompanied with another. Between them, they marched a ragged elleth. The group came to a few steps away from the base of his throne, awaiting instruction.

He stared down at them. The guards stood proud, uniform in their stance and purpose. The elleth however, had her head lowered and her gaze turned downwards, her hands clasped before her.

The minutes ticked past.

“Leave us,” he ordered, after a long silence.

The elleth’s head lifted ever so slightly in surprise, but not enough to look up at him.

The guards silently retreated.

He stood, not taking his eyes from her. Slowly descending the steps, he noted her posture, the slight tremble in her body, her shaky breathing. Slow, deliberate steps carried him down to where she stood, and he stopped.

And waited.

She remained as still as a statue, not daring to make a sound in case she infuriate the ruler of the realm. Many stories had circulated the lands of his temper, his lack of compassion, and his disdain for trespassers and strays. Her hands clasped tighter together, a move which his sharp gaze picked up on immediately.

Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You can come out now, little one,” he said, his deep, velvet voice filling the surrounding area. “I do not intend to harm you or your mother.”

Her head shot up and her astonished eyes met ice blue, his intense stare sending a shiver up her spine.

Her skirts rustled after a few moments, and his gaze dropped to a small child who peered cautiously at him. Long dark hair that was badly needing washed and brushed tumbled down the child’s back. Large eyes in a shade of dark blue held his, wide in both innocence and apprehension. Thick, dark lashes framed her eyes. Plump rosy cheeks and a little button nose set over a full mouth completed her face.

The elleth instinctively dropped her hand to rest on the child’s head. “Do what you wish with me, my Lord,” she whispered. “But please spare my daughter.”

Thranduil continued to hold the youngster’s gaze. “I have no desire to bring harm to either of you,” he replied. “It is not my intention to hurt either children or females.”

The child gazed at him, and he felt himself drawn deeper into the blue. He saw the expression slowly change, the fear slowly dissipating, to be replaced with curiosity. That too gradually changed, as she carefully untangled herself from her mother’s dress.

Still not breaking their visual connection, she slowly walked towards him, ignoring her mother’s horrified admonishment. His head lowered as she came to a stop at his side, as he towered over her tiny form.

She blinked, and instantly he could see the trust in the depths of her eyes. Her small hand lifted and she slid it in into his much larger one, clasping her fingers tightly around his. Still those trusting, innocent eyes held his.

He finally looked up at the elleth, who was shocked at her daughter’s actions.

“Please forgive us, my Lord,” she said hurriedly.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replied. “You and the child have my protection. You will both bathe and have fresh clothing, and then I will send for you. I have questions, to which I will have answers.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, bowing her head.

He lifted his free hand and signalled, after which distant footsteps could be heard hastening towards them. Speaking in his own tongue, he told the guard to escort the elleth and her child to bathe, giving them two maids to take care of them. The guard bowed and gestured for them to accompany him.

Thranduil looked down at the little girl, who seemed reluctant to leave. He slowly crouched down onto his heels, so he was level with her. “Go with your mother, little moonbeam,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Go and bathe, put a pretty dress on, and I shall give you some food.”

She blinked, and he could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. Those dark blue eyes were almost assessing his, as though she was trying to figure out if he was being honest and truthful with her.

“Tarellethiel, come!” the child’s mother urged.

She hesitantly released his hand, slowly backing away from him before turning to face her slightly panicked parent.

He rose back to his full height, a smirk hovering around his mouth as he watched the trio walk away. The child glanced back at him over her shoulder several times, to be quickly scolded by her mother.

That evening, mother and child joined him for dinner, which he chose to have in his private dining area away from the others in the palace. He wanted both females to feel at ease if he was to obtain answers, and knew that the bustling environment of the banquet hall would not be adequate.

The elleth, who had revealed her name to be Caladwen, sat on his adjacent left at the table. Her daughter, Tarellethiel, made a point of dragging her chair closer to him and seating herself on his right.

“You were most fortunate to be found by my patrol,” he said, partway through their meal. “The orcs they slaughtered were almost upon you, from what my captain informs me.”

“Yes,” Caladwen nodded. “They had been chasing us most of the way through the forest. I thought several times that I had managed to lose them, but I had not.”

“The forest holds many dangers,” he said, his glance falling to the child beside him. He watched as she cut a potato in half, carefully lifted one half and put it on his plate, her dark blue eyes lifting to his.

“I have more than you do,” she said quietly.

He lifted his knife and sliced a peach in half, setting one piece on the table next to her plate. “Now we have the same,” he told her.

She nodded solemnly, turning her attention back to her plate.

“The orcs are merely one in an endless list of beasts that scourge my lands and take what they can,” he continued, turning back to Caladwen. “I am amazed the spiders had not reached you, as you were not far from where they prefer to nest.”

“I have been very lucky, my Lord,” she replied.

“May I ask what it was that you were fleeing from?” he asked, and she knew this was a question that demanded a reply.

“My husband, myself, and Tarellethiel lived in a small settlement close to East Rohan,” she told him. “It was my husband’s wish to travel to the Misty Mountains to make our home.”

Thranduil frowned. “That is a long and dangerous journey,” he said. “Especially with a young child. How did you manage to flee from the orcs with her?”

“I lifted her and she wrapped her arms and legs around me,” she replied. “I carried her at my front, lest they shot any arrows. If they did, they would have hit me instead of my daughter.”

“A brave, selfless move,” he acknowledged. “But still a dire journey to undertake.”

Sadness filled her eyes as she nodded. “My husband perished shortly after we set off, leaving us to continue our journey alone.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. “What are your intentions?”

“I hope to continue to the Mountains,” she answered. “My husband thought that Tarellethiel would have a better life there. I feel obliged to carry on with his wish.”

“You are both more than welcome to stay here and rest, at least until the worst of the weather passes,” he said. “The oncoming winter promises to be harsh, and I fear neither of you would endure travelling in such conditions.”

“I thank you for your gracious offer, my Lord,” Caladwen said. “But I do not wish to impose on your kind hospitality any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I have a son who must be of age as this little one; I am sure they would play well together.” He glanced down at Tarellethiel, whose blue eyes regarded him.

“I must apologise, my Lord,” Caladwen said. “My daughter appears to be fascinated by you. I am most ashamed.”

“Why? The innocent curiosity of elflings is to be encouraged, else they will not learn,” he said. “And it is clear that this little moonbeam is exceptionally curious.” He smiled down at her, and she smiled back.

And so it continued.

Everywhere Thranduil went, Tarellethiel scampered alongside, usually dragging Legolas in tow. When the young Prince was resting or doing something she didn’t want to participate in, she would still follow the King everywhere, much to her mother’s embarrassment.

The winter months set in, bringing a heavy snowfall and biting cold temperatures. Intensely glad she had accepted the offer to stay until better weather, Caladwen searched every corner of the palace for her wayward child.

She entered the King’s study after knocking on the door and he bid her to enter. Inside, he sat on the other side of a massive polished desk, surrounded by piles and piles of parchments, a quill in one hand.

She stopped, mortified.

Tarellethiel sat cross-legged on the table, watching him, and taking documents as he signed them and placing them one on top of the other.

Her mother’s jaw dropped.

“Let her be,” Thranduil said. “Legolas is feeling a little unwell today, so she is my assistant while he rests.” He signed yet another parchment with a flourish, handing it to the little girl. She twisted and placed it carefully on the growing pile.

“I hope she is not keeping you from your duties, my Lord,” Caladwen stated.

“Not at all,” he replied, lifting his eyes to hers with a genuine smile. “She is making a somewhat boring, mundane task more enjoyable.”

The elleth nodded once, and left, closing the door behind her.

Another time, she found the King striding through his halls, his long cloak trailing along the floor behind him. Both Legolas and Tarellethiel sat on the tails of the cloak, laughing hysterically at being transported through the palace in such a style.

The King’s personal guards grew accustomed to seeing the elflings together, usually getting up to some sort of mischief or trouble. Caladwen found the two of them leaping around on the King’s bed, having a pillow-fight, which only paused as the young Prince’s pillow burst and scattered feathers in all directions.

Thranduil had turned away in silent laughter, while Legolas immediately grabbed a replacement pillow and went back to tackling his friend.

Day after day Caladwen went hunting for her daughter, and day after day she found her sometimes with Legolas, always with Thranduil. Some days she would be found sitting on the arm of his throne, carefully braiding his long blond hair while he sat patiently still. Or sitting cross-legged on the floor of the library arguing with Legolas over how to pronounce a word in a book. Sometimes they were playing chase around the council meeting room, crawling through the legs of the assembled Lords seated around the long table.

Other times they were up to no good.

Pouring honey into Thranduil’s riding boots.

Hiding his swords.

Moving things in his study so he had to search for them.

 _Borrowing_ his winter crown and climbing up onto the antlers of his throne, perching it on the top.

Thranduil called their antics _harmless fun,_ and didn’t seem to be one bit put out by their nonsense. He took everything in his stride, and always seemed to have both endless time and patience with both his little shadows. Even the guards appeared to accept their mischief when the pair brought a stag into the palace and set it free, causing carnage as it crashed through the halls. The guards simply banded together and rounded the animal back outside.

Tarellethiel flourished over the winter months.

She was fond of Legolas, but more so of his father. Every night her mother had trouble persuading her to take her leave and retire for the night, and often the King himself delivered her to her room. He spent countless hours with both elflings, helping them with their reading, and encouraging them with their sword practice, using sticks.

Thranduil’s life was never to be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

** CHAPTER TWO **

****

Seasons came and went.

Years rolled past, turning into decades and eventually centuries.

Thranduil became cold and detached, closing himself off from others. Legolas, who had grown into a strong warrior, held a certain amount of bitterness and resentment, but not as much as his father. Neither of them spoke of it, or acknowledged it.

But both knew it was there.

One spring morning, the King had decided to venture into the woods, taking three guards with him. His son was out on patrol, and his Captain of the Guard was taking his company through combat training. With no meetings scheduled, Thranduil chose to use the quiet time to assess how the forest was holding up against the ever-present threat of darkness.

The ruler rode before his guards, their horses slowly plodding through the undergrowth. Patting the neck of his horse, Thranduil slowly turned his head.

Nothing seemed out of place.

The lush green bushes and plants were still in the warm air, with only a slight rustling of leaves from the canopy above them. Birds twittered occasionally, a brief lift in the silence.

Approaching a clearing, he pulled the reins and his mount halted. The guards stopped behind him.

Ice blue eyes slowly lifted upwards.

“My Lord?” one of the guards asked hesitantly, wondering why they had come to a halt.

“Something awaits, above us,” he said. His gaze travelled overhead, but nothing stirred.

The guards exchanged looks.

The royal horse shrieked and reared up on his hind legs in terror as four spiders tore out of the foliage on the other side of the clearing. The guards gasped and pulled their swords, preparing to defend their King.

Thranduil urged the horse back onto all four hooves, guiding him back a few steps as he reached to unsheath his own sword.

In the blink of an eye, something dark leapt down from the overhead branches, placing itself between him and the spiders. The shape was a blur of black and steel as twin swords slashed at speed through the air, spilling blood and venom in all directions.  The blades moved so fast, even his sharp eye couldn’t focus. Screams of pain echoed through the forest as the spiders met their deaths one by one.

The figure turned, dropping the swords and whipping a bow and arrow from its back, lining up an arrow and aiming at the King.

His eyes widened in astonishment.

_An elleth?!_

She stood proud before him, dressed in tight black trousers tucked into knee-high leather boots, and a sleeveless black tunic. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, reaching past her hips. Her stance spoke of aggression, and the hatred that blazed from her blue eyes almost burned his soul. Strong arms kept the weapon trained on him.

His guards moved forwards, but he held a hand up.

“I have no desire to bring harm to your guards,” she said in an even tone. “You are my purpose here, not them.”

“Retreat,” he said, turning his head only slightly.

The guards hesitantly shuffled backwards. They moved back to the line of trees, where they stopped and waited.

Thranduil shifted on his horse. “You know who you threaten,” he said. His voice was quiet, but held enough menace and tightly leashed anger to send a chill down the back of anyone within earshot.

She smirked. “I know _exactly_ who I threaten,” she replied. “I do not needlessly confront strangers.”

“What is your grievance?”

“You,” she answered instantly. “You are my grievance.”

He didn’t bat an eyelid. “I am afraid I am at a loss,” he told her. “As I have no knowledge of you, I have no knowledge of your troubles.”

“You cannot be allowed to escape justice solely because you are a King,” she hissed. “You must be held accountable for your actions, as you hold others accountable for theirs.”

He frowned slightly. “What actions do you speak of?”

“You know what I speak of,” she answered. “Your heart is evil. Your heart does not beat; it is made of stone. You have no feelings, nothing.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and his horse shifted restlessly. “You are aware of the punishment you will endure,” he warned her.

“And you think I care?” she scoffed. “After what you have done? You do not have the _right_ to inflict judgement or punishment on any being. You have to pay for what you have done.”

Icy blue eyes bored into hers, the hatred and anger arcing through the air between them.

The guards at the edge of the clearing remained silent.

“Get off the horse,” she commanded.

“You do not command me-“

“ _Get off the horse_ ,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

Clenching his jaw in anger, he slid from the animal, not taking his eyes from hers. The horse moved away, turning and wandering over to where the others stood.

Both warriors glared at each other for several long, agonising seconds.

She dropped to a squat in a rapid movement, letting go of the bow and arrow and snatching up her twin blades, rising to her full height again.

A confident, arrogant smirk pulled at his lips. “You wish to go against me,” he said, unsheathing his swords. “You wish to meet your death.”

One eyebrow lifted. “More like I wish for you to meet yours,” she corrected him. “I will not die on this day.”

“As neither shall I,” he replied slowly circling her. “That presents us with a problem.”

She turned, keeping him in her line of vision. “I did not come here to die. I came here for justice, to make you pay.”

“You seem true to your belief that I have wronged you in some way,” he drawled lazily, still circling.

Still she turned. “It is not my belief, it is my knowledge,” she said.

“It is your downfall,” he whispered, lunging towards her.

She sidestepped, using her right sword to slash his downwards, and spun round to face him. “Too slow. Too clumsy,” she said.

“I am merely testing your reflexes,” he replied, and swiftly brought both swords up in an X-formation.

Again she ducked out of harm’s way, an evil smile on her face. “Perhaps you are getting out of practice,” she said. “Perhaps you have spent too long destroying other peoples’ lives and not enough time on the training grounds.”

“I seek to destroy only one life,” he counteracted. “That which has the audacity to threaten mine.”

“Prepare to be disappointed,” she replied, swinging her left sword round in a sideways motion. His rose up to meet hers, clashing with a deafening screech of steel. Her other blade joined in, battling furiously against both of his. Time and time again they struck at each other, fending off the other’s blows that were designed to kill.

She moved deftly on her feet, bouncing backwards and diving from side to side as she blocked and avoided his attack. Her body twisted and turned, as did his.

Being the much taller, stronger, and more experienced warrior, he was surprised at her agility, her reflexes, and her strength. This elleth had more promise and skill that she was choosing to reveal, and he sensed she had more to give.

They moved around each other, anger and adrenalin flowing freely as they slashed at each other. The first injury fell to Thranduil, as the tip of her blade nicked his cheek.

He lifted a hand and wiped at the trickle of blood, shock in his eyes as he looked from the red stain to her. Anger surged through him as she smiled, twirling one of her weapons.

“Does it hurt?” she taunted.

He didn’t answer, but threw himself towards her, swiping both swords outwards. She lost her grip on her right weapon, but quickly switched her left blade over to her right, going from defensive to offensive in a heartbeat.

Even with one weapon she was formidable. She pushed against him, forcing him backwards, the steel flashing in the sunlight that filtered through the gaps in the leaves above them.

A gasp ripped from her throat as he slashed her left arm, blood flowing instantly.

“Now we are even,” he told her.

“I am glad you think so,” she shot back, flipping her sword at lightning speed and knocking one of his from his hand. “ _Now_ we are even.”

They continued to parry back and forth, and she spotted an opportunity to grab her fallen blade, swinging it up over his throat. Only sheer instinct made him reel back, the steel whooshing through the air a millimetre from his flesh.

Red hot anger blazed from his ice blue eyes. “Now you die,” he hissed in fury.

She took the lead on the attack, continuing to push him back, forcing him to fend off her onslaught of increasingly rapid blows. Her energy flowed through her blades, almost tangible in its power.

Mentally blocking out the fact that she was a female, Thranduil unleashed his full ability, quickly backing her against a large tree, his sword across her throat. “Is there anything you wish to tell me, before you go to your death?” he smirked.

Blue eyes held his. “Only that you are the most spineless bastard to ever have walked Middle Earth,” she shot back.

He tilted his head slightly in amusement. “Even in the face of your demise, you yield not,” he murmered. “I wonder what drives such hatred, such animosity.”

She refused to answer.

He stepped back, turning the weapon so the sharp point rested against her throat. “We shall take her back to the palace,” he said, his voice louder as he spoke to his guards. “I wish to know what fuels this fury which lies within her.”

The guards moved rapidly, dismounting and approaching them. He took another step back and sheathed his swords. She glared at him as the guards grabbed her arms and dragged her forwards.

Thranduil swung himself up onto his horse, turning to see her fighting and struggling with all three soldiers. “Bind her,” he commanded. “If she wishes to behave like a wild animal, she shall be treated like one.”

One of the guards tied her wrists together with a length of thick rope, rendering her helpless. She continued to kick and squirm, giving the guard who dragged her a full time job containing her.

The King shook his head, turning his mount and slowly heading back through the forest.

*****

Thranduil’s forehead creased in a thoughtful frown as he tipped his head back, wringing the water from his hair. Rolling his shoulders, he fought to ease the tension that had settled deep within his muscles.

The elleth held in his dungeons troubled him.

The hatred she had for him was so strong, it verged on poison. Yet he had no idea who she was, or why she held so much anger towards him. Wracking his memories in search of her, he came up empty-handed.

He rose from the hot water, wrapping a towel around himself as he stepped out of the bathing pool. Crossing over the thick rug, he stopped a few paces from the window, the setting sun catching his attention. The sky was a blaze of red and orange, glowing over the forest that stretched out over the horizon.

He breathed in, absorbing the peace and serenity as he closed his eyes.

Still his thoughts troubled him.

Exasperated, he dried himself and dressed in soft grey leggings, a comfortable grey tunic, and his usual boots.

A soft tap at the door made him turn, and one of his servants presented themselves.

“My Lord, do you wish to dine?” she enquired.

“Yes,” he replied. “Bring it here.”

She nodded and bowed, closing the door as she disappeared again.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, his thoughts far away as he brushed his damp hair. He was mystified. He had an amazing memory, and was sure he would remember if he had come up against the mysterious elleth previously.

Nothing about her struck him as being familiar.

His frown deepened, and was almost a scowl by the time the servant re-appeared with his meal. She set it on the table, poured him a glass of wine, and vanished again with a respectful bow.

He rose from the couch and went over to the plate, lifting the fork and pushing the food around, his appetite suddenly gone.

Whoever had trained the elleth in her sword-fighting had trained her well, and was clearly a master at the craft. She had moved with grace and stealth, her defence and attacks perfectly co-ordinated. He’d had trouble fending her off at various points in their duel, although that was not something he wished to share. He tried tracking through the names of those who were capable of displaying such talent and skill, but came up with nothing.

Heaving a deep sigh, he took a drink of the wine, swirling the sweet liquid around in his mouth before swallowing.

She had to be dealt with.

But he wanted answers to his questions first.


	3. Chapter 3

** CHAPTER THREE **

****

The cool air circulating the cells made the elleth shiver, goose-bumps rising on her bare arms. One of the guards had bandaged the slash on her arm, but the blood had soaked through the white cloth overnight, darkening to a brownish stain.

She sat on the cold, hard floor, her back against the equally cold and hard wall. Her knees were pulled up, her still-tied wrists resting on top of them. She leaned her head back, gazing up at the stone roof above her.

She _hated_ that damned elf King. Hated him with everything she had. Yet when she had looked into his eyes as she’d trained her arrow on him, she had felt the deepest heartache she could imagine.

And that had left her mystified and confused.

Her gaze shifted as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Ice blue eyes burned into hers through the cell gate.

She huffed slightly, looking away again. How he had approached so silently, she had no idea.

“You have not eaten,” his deep, velvet voice said.

“And why do you care? I care not about your well-being,” she said, still staring up at the roof.

“I did not say I cared; I merely voiced an observation,” he replied.

“So there is nothing wrong with your eyesight,” she shot back.

He fell silent.

Pointedly ignoring him, she didn’t move.

“I shall return when your hostility has cooled somewhat,” he said eventually as he turned away.

“You shall be waiting for a long time,” she said.

He smirked over his shoulder as he walked away. “I have patience. I can wait.”

_Good for you,_ she thought.

*****

Almost a week passed.

Thranduil had gone down to the cell twice more, and both times the elleth had ignored him. All food and drink that was sent down remained untouched, only to be cleared away come the next meal time. The guards kept an eye on her, reporting that she moved only every couple of hours to walk up and down the cramped space a few times, then return to her position on the floor.

Curiosity was getting the better of him. He wanted to know who she was, and what it was about him that had angered her to the point she had attempted to end his life. Rather than being furious at her foolish ideas, he found himself itching to know more. There had to be a good motive behind her actions, and despite her insistence that he knew what he had done, he was utterly clueless as to exactly what that motive was.

“Bring me the prisoner,” he commanded his guard, settling himself on his throne.

He waited, the silence in the vast area almost deafening, until his sharp ears sensed approaching footsteps. Turning his head, he watched the guard practically drag her along the walkway towards him, stopping once they were up on the raised platform.

She stood a short walk away from the steps leading up to his throne, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the stone floor beneath her feet.

“Untie her,” he ordered.

The guard slid his sword through the rope that bound her wrists and hurriedly stepped aside as she slid him a sideways look, not trusting her not to lash out at him.

Thranduil smirked ever so slightly at his apprehension. “You may leave,” he told him.

The guard hurried away.

He rose from his throne, expecting her to back off as he towered over her even more from his elevated position.

She didn’t move.

Taking slow, calculated steps downwards, he took his time in approaching her, coming to a stop before her with his hands behind his back.

And waited.

“You will look at me,” he said eventually.

“I would rather not,” she replied.

She gasped as he whipped a hand around and gripped her hair, pulling hard and forcing her head up.

“It was not a request,” he told her.

“I am glad, as I had no intention of complying,” she snapped.

He released his grip on her hair, returning his hand to his back as he slowly circled her. “It seems that sharp tongue of yours knows nothing except poison,” he said. “Perhaps I should cut your tongue out, and you would not be able to speak any more of it.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

He halted behind her, a move meant to intimidate her.

It failed.

Her back remained straight, her shoulders back in a proud, strong stance. Her resistance intrigued him no end.

“Who trained you to fight?”

She stayed silent.

He lifted one eyebrow as he came back in front of her. “I see you cannot answer a logical question, should the answer not be of a hostile manner.”

“You see a lot,” she replied.

“Yes,” he agreed, circling again. “Yet I still cannot see where our lives have crossed.” He went around behind her again, his body brushing hers as he moved. “Do you wish to tell me? Or are we going to continue to play this game?” he whispered in her ear.

A slight shiver coursed down her back, and he smirked.

“This is no game,” she hissed angrily. “This is my _life._ ”

“A life which I apparently had a hand in destroying, from what you have said,” he replied. “Yet I have no inkling as to how, or when. Or why, for that matter.”

“I know how, and I know when, but I do not know why,” she said.

He stopped in front of her, studying her.

She stared back.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“Everyone has a name.”

He inhaled through his nose, his only visible sign of his irritation. “So tell me yours.”

“Tara,” she replied.

“Tara.” The name rolled off his tongue, and he smiled. “Somehow you do not seem so… _dangerous?..._ now that you have a name.”

“If you believe that, then you are a fool,” she said.

His eyes changed. He lashed out, gripping the front of her tunic, and forcing her down onto her knees at his feet. “You will tell me what I wish to know,” he snarled. “Or shall I torture it out of you?”

“I am already prepared for such treatment,” she growled up at him. “You do not scare me, no matter how hard you try. I am beyond fearing you or anything you can inflict upon me!”

“So it would seem,” he murmered, stepping back from her.

She remained kneeling on the floor, glaring at him.

“Get up,” he commanded, his tone cold.

She slowly stood back up, not breaking eye contact.

“I shall give you one last chance,” he told her. “Tell me what I wish to know.”

“Your memory is not as good as you would have others believe,” she said. “Your life _has_ crossed mine.”

He frowned. “I have no recollection of you,” he said. “I would remember you if I had seen you before.”

“It was many, many years past,” she answered. “Middle Earth was a different place. You were a different person.”

He breathed slowly, watching her.

“But this place has not changed,” she added.

His eyes narrowed just a fraction. “When were you here?”

“Centuries ago,” she snapped. “Before you became the cold-hearted bastard that you turned into.”

He grabbed her wrist, whirling her around and forcing her arm up her back, and making her cry out in pain. “You do not address your King in such a manner!” he growled in her ear.

“You are _not_ my King!” she shouted, yanking her arm free and twisting back round to face him. “ _My_ King would not have thrown a young child and her mother out to face their deaths! _My_ King would have kept his word and protected them, kept them safe, not forced them out in the dead of winter to be slaughtered by the beasts that roam these lands!”

His eyes widened in astonishment. Tears of anger had gathered in her eyes, and she breathed heavily through her rage.

“Do you remember me now?” she demanded. “Do you remember the child who followed you _everywhere?_ Hung on to your every word? _Do you remember?!_ ” Her voice had risen to a scream as she struck him hard, the force of her closed fist turning his head away from her. “My mother _died_ because of you!” she screamed at him. “She died a cruel, horrible death that she did _not_ deserve!” She threw herself at him, both fists pounding against his chest in unleashed fury and grief. She hit him harder and harder with each blow, letting her rage free after so many years of lying dormant.

He stared at her in horror, until he snapped back to the present and gripped her wrists, wrestling her fists against his chest. “Tarellethiel?” he gasped. “My little moonbeam?!”

She struggled against him. “You do _not_ call me that!” she roared at him. “You have _no_ right! Not after what you did to us!” Her body shook with rage, her angry tears overflowing and pouring down her cheeks.

His grip on her tightened, and he shook her, hard. “Listen to me!” he thundered. “Listen!”

“No!” she screamed. “I hate you! I hate everything about you, I hate everything you stand for! You ruined my fucking life, you ended hers and she was all I had! You left me with _nothing!_ She is dead, and I was left alone with nobody in the world, because of _you!_ ”

He shook his head in frustration, but she refused to calm down, fighting him and screaming hysterically.

He’d had enough. Forcing her to face away from him, he pinned her back against his chest, covering her mouth with one hand while the other arm restrained her. “Listen to me, and listen well,” he shouted over her muffled cries. “I did _not_ force either you or your mother away from here. I spent _weeks_ tracking you both, and when I found her, I spent _years_ looking for you!”

She went still in his hold.

He waited, before slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

“You lie,” she whispered. “She told me why we had to leave.”

“I do not know what your mother told you, but I give you my oath I did not force either of you to leave,” he said.

“Your oath means nothing,” she spat.

His arm tightened, crushing her closer against the rock-hard wall of his chest. “I can prove it,” he said angrily. “Although with the contempt and hatred you have shown towards me, I should not have to prove anything.”

“You cannot prove anything,” she said angrily. “You pushed a widowed mother out into the harsh winter with a young child who had followed you absolutely everywhere, had never left your side, and left us to die.”

He slowly released his hold on her, taking a step away from her. She turned to face him, her face streaked with tears.

“I pushed no-one out,” he said. “I searched for miles, for years, and found no trace of you. I found your mother’s body and continued to search for you. I feared you had met the same fate.”

“I do not believe you,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze.

“What reason would I have to lie?” he demanded. “What would I gain from telling untruths?”

“You would stop an angry daughter from cutting your heart out to see if it is indeed real,” she said, her earlier anger back in her voice.

His jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his own anger. “Had this situation been different, I would have relieved you of your head long before now,” he barked. “As it is, you are lucky you have made it this far through this day. Take my advice – quit while you are ahead.”

She glared at him in silence.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mother left the realm of her own accord, taking you with her,” he said after a short silence. His tone was softer as he spoke. “She took you and disappeared in the dead of the night. No-one knew you both were gone until the next morning when neither of you showed up for breakfast.”

He opened his eyes again as she didn’t answer.

“She left me a letter. A letter which I have kept, all these years,” he said. “I could not bear to throw it away, or to destroy it, even though I felt so much anger towards her for what she had done.”

Tara’s head tilted slightly, her interest piqued. “What did she do?”

Ice blue eyes bored into hers. “She endangered her child because of sheer pettiness,” he growled. “A child who showed so much promise, who had so much to give this world, who was such a good friend to my son. She willingly put you in danger, and no mother should ever do that to her child.”

Her nostrils flared. “How _dare_ you,” she snarled. “You have no right to speak of my mother in such ways. None.”

“I have _every_ right!” he roared, zeroing in on her so he was a heartbeat away from her. “I have every single right in this world to speak of her as such!”

Two angry tempers faced off against each other, both believing they were right, and both refusing to back down against the other.

“I shall prove that what I say is true,” he snapped, grabbing her wrist in his strong hold and marching her away from the throne area. He pounded along the walkway, dragging her with him. Endless hallways and passageways passed as he strode through the palace, fury flushing through him.

He was _not_ prepared to shoulder the blame for something so tragic, when he’d had no hand in it.

Coming to a halt outside a large carved wooden door, he threw it open and forced her inside, slamming it closed and releasing her.

She rubbed her wrist as she looked around, realising that she was in the royal chambers, his own personal space. He walked over to a cupboard hewn into the stone wall on the far side of the room, his temper making the door bounce off the wall as he threw it open. Taking a wooden box from inside, he passed her and dumped it onto the bed, yanking the lid open. He pulled out a bundle of parchments, old and yellowed with age.

“Read this,” he ordered, thrusting one towards her.

She took it, glancing up at him in suspicion as she unfolded the fragile document. Her eyes scanned the neat writing, and her face turned chalk white. She stared at the words as she came to the end, stunned, then lifted her eyes to his. Her lips parted, but she did not speak.

Her vision became blurred as a loud thunder echoed in her ears, and the world went black as she collapsed.


	4. Chapter 4

** CHAPTER FOUR **

****

Tara slowly regained consciousness, but couldn’t open her eyes. She became aware of moving, and gradually realised she was being carried. Her limbs felt useless, and she was unable to move against the strong arms which held her.

A deep softness pressed against her back as she was lowered down, and she felt an instant chill as whoever had carried her moved away.

Forcing her eyes open, she saw Thranduil gazing at her as he lowered his weight to sit on the edge of the bed he had placed her on.

He lifted a hand and touched his palm to her forehead. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Dizzy,” she replied thickly.

He reached over and picked up a glass and a pitcher, pouring water into it. “Try to sit up,” he advised, sliding an arm under her shoulders and pulling her upright. “Drink this. It will help.” He handed her the glass.

She drank, the cool water refreshing her.

He pulled his arm away and took the glass from her as she settled back against the soft pillows. “You were out for only a matter of seconds,” he told her, crossing one leg over the other. “You should be alright if you rest for some time before attempting to stand again.”

She didn’t look at him, her gaze focused on the faraway wall instead. Her face was deathly pale, her pupils dilated slightly.

He remained silent.

“I do not know what to think, or say,” she said eventually, her voice no more than a whisper. Large, tear-filled eyes moved to meet his.

Surprisingly, his held no trace of malice or anger. “It is a difficult truth to absorb,” he replied, after choosing his words carefully. “And one which I imagine, is not particularly welcome.”

She shook her head, a subtle movement, as her gaze wandered back to the wall again. “I cannot understand,” she whispered. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

He took a deep breath. “I think that you should eat something,” he told her. “You have not touched food or drink in almost seven days, and your body is weak.”

“Why do you care?” she whispered.

“Because I do,” he replied, and rose from the bed.

She heard him open the door, and speak in his own tongue to whichever guard he summoned along the corridor, before closing it again. He strode across the room and pulled the drapes over the window, closing out the bright sunlight.

Turning to face her, he folded his arms, leaning against a waist high bookcase.

“When am I going back to the dungeons?” she asked, still gazing vacantly at the wall.

“You are not,” he replied.

Her eyes moved to his. “Thrown out of Mirkwood?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Whipped?”

“No.”

“Executed?”

He sighed. “No. Stop this.”

A few moments passed. “So what do you intend to do to me?”

“Feed and nourish you, and get you back to full health,” he replied. “Then the choice of what you do afterwards is yours.”

She lifted her hand from where it rested on the blanket, holding it up and inspecting it. “I have trained for years, training these hands to take your life,” she whispered.

He noticed the tremble that ran through her limb.

“I expect to be punished for what I have done.”

“How can I punish you, when your actions have been based on untruths?” he questioned. “How can I justify what you have done, when you had no other choice than to believe what you had been told?”

She had no reply.

His head turned and he moved as the door knocked, going over to it and opening it. More words were spoken, quiet words in his own language, and the door closed again.

She watched him carry a plate of bread, cheese, and cuts of meat over to a small table, along with a large pitcher.

“Are you able to stand?” he asked, turning back to her.

“I should think so,” she answered.

He held his hand out and she hesitated before taking it, and he tugged gently until she was on her feet. Leading her across the room, he pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

She did.

He sat in the seat across from her, and proceeded to place cheese onto a slice of warm bread which appeared to be fresh out of the oven. “Eat,” he told her, handing it to her.

“I am not hungry,” she said quietly.

“That is because you have gone past the stage of feeling hunger pangs,” he told her. “Take small bites; your appetite will return.”

She did as he instructed, chewing slowly.

“I remember you and Legolas used to sit on the bottom of my cloak,” he said softly, breaking the silence between them. His eyes lifted to hers. “Both of you would scream and laugh as I dragged you around the palace.”

“I remember that,” she whispered. “I remember sitting on the arm of your throne, braiding your hair.” Her eyes took on a vacant look. “We stole your sword and hid it in one of the empty wine barrels.”

“The first meal we ate together…you cut a potato on your plate and put half on mine, because you had more than I did,” he said.

“I coerced Legolas into bringing the stag indoors,” she said. “Neither of us knew the damage it would cause.”

He smiled, recalling the animal tearing around and destroying everything that came within reach of his impressive antlers. “I had trouble persuading your mother not to punish you for that,” he said. He took a deep breath, releasing it on a tired sigh. “Your mother developed feelings towards me,” he said. “She was still grieving the passing of your father, and was lost and mixed up. I was in a deep state of grief over losing my son’s mother. Neither of us could have sustained a relationship even if we had both been willing.”

Tara took another bite.

“She accused me of favouring you, her child, over her,” he went on. “She was jealous because I had all the time in the world for you, and you went everywhere with me. She could never find you, and when she did, you were always at my side.”

“I remember,” she said quietly.

“That continued through the winter,” he said. “The day we discovered you were gone, the maids found that letter placed on her pillow, intended for someone to give it to me. I was horrified when I read it.”

She placed the half uneaten bread down on the plate. “But I do not understand,” she said. “It does not make sense.”

He rose from the table and picked up the piece of parchment that had drifted to the floor as she had collapsed. Spreading it out on the table as he re-seated himself, they both stared at it.

_My dearest Thranduil,_

_I write this with a heavy heart, as I can no longer face up to the fact that you do not return my feelings, or show any sort of encouragement that we might have a relationship in the future._

_All you seem to care about is Tarellethiel._

_She is but a child, and of no importance to you. I see you give her your time, patience, and attention, whereas you give me nothing._

_I cannot live in the Mirkwood Halls any longer. I do not wish to live any longer, to be truthful._

_I am leaving and taking Tarellethiel, and I intend to end both our suffering. If you cannot give me a special place in your life, then you cannot give one to her. I gave her life, and I shall be the one to take it from her._

_Caladwen._

Tara shook her head. “She did not try to take my life,” she whispered. “We were attacked by orcs.”

He frowned. “She did not give you anything to eat?”

“Why? Why do you ask that?” she questioned.

He took a massive breath, hesitating before he replied. “When we found your mother, she was…she was not in good condition,” he said carefully. “Orcs had already…damaged her.”

“I escaped,” she said quietly. “I do not think they were ever aware of my being there. I ran through the forest, as far away from them as I could get.”

He nodded. “They are carnivorous, for a lack of a better word,” he said. “They had already started to…feed off your mother’s body. The reason I ask, is that she was found holding onto a green fruit which only grows in a particular area of the forest. That fruit is toxic to all who consume it. The orcs had picked up the poison in her blood and were lying dead next to her.”

She frowned, going back through time in her thoughts. “My mother gave me a green fruit,” she said slowly. “She said it would help me sleep…oh my God…oh no..!”

She placed both hands on the table, breathing hard.

“Tara, slow your breathing,” he said.

“She was going to end my life,” she gasped. “She intended for me to die! Oh my God, she really intended for me to die with her!”

She pushed herself away from the table, getting unsteadily to her feet. Turning in a blind panic, she breathed faster, fighting for oxygen as a tight feeling crept around her chest.

“Tara, look at me,” Thranduil said, standing and rounding the table. “Tara!”

“She gave me the fruit,” she panted, her eyes wide with horror at the realisation of the truth sinking in. “She told me to eat it, and it would help me to sleep. I was about to, but we heard the orcs crashing through the forest…I was terrified…I screamed and ran. I must have dropped it, because I do not remember eating it.”

He gripped her upper arms. “You would not have survived even one bite, given that you were so small and young,” he told her. “So yes, you must have dropped it.”

“I could hear her screaming as I ran,” she cried, her terror growing as she relived it. “The orcs growling and snarling as they attacked her…I just ran as fast as I could and left her there to die…”

“She had already ingested some of the fruit, Tara. She would have been dead within minutes,” he said. “For once, the presence of the orcs had a positive outcome – they saved your life.”

He released her as she pulled away, turning and walking away from him. Ice blue eyes ruled by emotions from a splintered heart watched her as she dragged her hands through her hair, sending the long black tresses rippling down her back.

“I cannot understand why my own mother would have done something so horrible,” she whispered.

“She was jealous,” he said softly. “She wanted my attention, and I was not able to give it. I was not looking for another mate; I was locked deep inside a grief that was overwhelming me and would not have been receptive to any advances. Your mother was angry because I always had time for you, and never ever turned you away.”

“But I was a _child,_ ” she said, turning back to him. “A child! What harm could I have caused?”

He shrugged. “It would not have mattered if you were a child, an adult, or an animal. Her reasoning was that you were taking away attention which she craved.”

She shook her head, turning from him and presenting her profile. Her anguish and distress radiated through her posture, and he was deeply concerned.

“Perhaps you should eat some more and rest for a while,” he suggested. “This has been too much for you to comprehend at once.”

“My own mother,” she whispered, ignoring what he had said. “My own mother was going to kill me. And all because she was jealous.” Distraught eyes turned to him, desperate for answers, closure.

He inhaled as he saw the tears begin to flow down her cheeks, and her strong will crumbled. He wrapped one arm along her back and the other across her chest, pulling her shoulder tightly against his chest, and buried his face in the back of her hair as she finally broke. Deep shuddering sobs tore through her; anguished howls of pain and torment that made him feel hollow and empty inside.

Her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor, taking him with her. Still he held on to her, rocking her gently to comfort her as she broke her heart. They sat together on the cold floor with no concept of time.

Time didn’t matter. He intended to remain with her until she sorted through her feelings and what was going on in her mind. If that meant shelving his responsibilities, then so be it.

She lifted both hands and grasped his arm across her chest, holding on as she leaned her full weight against him. He stayed silent, feeling the agony and betrayal that flowed through her soul.

She dragged in one shuddering breath after another, blinded by the tears that flowed like a waterfall. The arms which held her were strong, the body she leaned into was warm. Everything about the situation seemed so wrong, so out of place, as she had spent her entire life living and believing a lie.

Every thought she had ever had since she had left the Mirkwood realm had been focused on revenge, on making him pay for what he had apparently done. For the loss she had suffered, the heartache, and the many years lost, alone, and afraid that she had endured. Only her need for revenge had kept her going and pulled her through the dark misery that was her existence.

She cried for everything.

For the loss of her mother. For her parent’s lies and ultimate betrayal. For the peace and contentment that she had only ever felt while in the Mirkwood Halls, that had been taken away from her under a cloak of deceit.

Throughout it all, Thranduil stayed with her, just holding her and quietly rocking her.


	5. Chapter 5

** CHAPTER FIVE **

****

The flickering flames from the fire cast dark shadows around the room, which danced to a tune unheard by anyone.

Tara gazed into the flames, seeing nothing. Her heart was numb, and her body unwilling to function.

Thranduil glanced at her as he moved, tossing another log onto the burning pile. He settled back on the floor next to her, their backs leaning against the couch.

Night had fallen over the kingdom, bringing a sense of peace with it. The darkness seemed to cloak everything, including her ability to make sense of anything around her. She hadn’t spoken a word since breaking down earlier, but had shut herself off in a world of silence.

He had stayed with her.

He hadn’t spoken to her or tried to pry her from her self-imposed exile, but merely remained a strong, silent presence close by.

Her eyes moved to the glass of wine which appeared in front of her, and she looked at it for a few seconds before accepting it. The liquid tasted sweet, and gave her a warm feeling inside as she swallowed a mouthful.

“You have not asked what my mother told me the night we left,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence that had lasted for hours.

His head turned towards her. “I thought you would tell me when you were ready, if you wanted to,” he replied, turning back to the fire. “It is not my place to push for answers, only to supply the ones which I am able to.”

She took another drink. “She woke me up in the middle of the night,” she said, her voice indicating that she was back in the past. “It was a freezing cold night…the snow had been falling all day. Legolas and I had been outside having snowball fights until the light faded.”

Thranduil said nothing. He took a drink from his own glass, continuing to stare into the flames.

“She woke me up and said we had to hurry. I asked why, asked her what was happening,” she said. “She told me that we had to leave. I started to cry.”

He lowered his gaze to the glass in his hands.

“I did not want to leave you and Legolas, and she knew this,” she went on. “And she became angry. Told me I was behaving like a spoiled child, and I had been raised better than that. I sat up in bed crying my eyes out as I watched her pack clothing into a bag. I went into a bit of a temper, refusing to get out of the bed, demanding answers.”

He turned to look at her again, and her eyes met his as she glanced at him.

“She said you had ordered her to leave, and to take her spoiled, attention-seeking brat with her,” she whispered. “Apparently you said you were tired with me trailing after you all the time, taking up your time when you had much more important things to do. She said Legolas only played with me because he was royalty, and had been raised to have manners. She said you could not bear to see or hear me, that I had driven you crazy by being with you constantly.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, turning away from her. “I did not say that,” he said, his voice quiet. “I promise, from the bottom of my heart, on my _life…_ I did not say that. I did not even think it. The disappearance of you and your mother came as a shock to everyone, but more so to myself and Legolas. He was inconsolable for a long, long time. You were the only friend he had truly bonded with, even though you had only been around for a relatively short time.”

“I know I followed you everywhere,” she admitted. “I felt safe with you, protected. I regarded you as a big bear that I could play with, have fun with, pull pranks on, yet I knew you would never hurt me. She took that from me, and made me think you detested me.”

“I did not,” he said. “Truth be told, I missed you terribly. I was accustomed to your constant chatter, the little feet pounding down the hallways behind me. Those big, dark blue eyes that simply had to look at me to get you out of whatever trouble you had got yourself into. The knowledge that my son would never be lonely as long as you were around. I moved heaven and earth to find you, Tara. I looked everywhere for you.”

She sipped her wine, her gaze locked on the flames that continued to dance. “She told me that she tried to reason with you, begged you to allow us to continue living here, but you became angry and struck her.”

He let out a stream of curses in his own language. “I have never, and _would never_ strike a female,” he hissed angrily. “The only reason I fought against you was because I was not going to allow another being to take me down. I had _no_ intention of harming you. It is not the elvish way to harm a female, and it certainly is not my way. It would appear that your mother had no limits as to how far she was willing to go to spin her web of deceit.”

“I truly am sorry for the way I treated you…what I did to you, how I spoke to you,” she whispered.

He reached over without looking and took her hand in his, holding it tightly on his lap. “I know why you acted the way you did,” he told her. “I understand now your anger, the logic behind your need for revenge. Like you, we also suffered in our own way when you left.”

She glanced at him, and he nodded.

“Legolas retreated into his own world for a long, long time,” he said. “And without the bundle of excitable trouble bouncing around these halls, I too began to close myself off, and went back into the state of mourning that I had been in since Legolas’s mother had passed. It had lifted for the time that you had been here; everywhere you went, your laughter and spirit seemed to brighten everything and everyone around you. Your innocence and purity was contagious. Your mischief endeared you to everyone. But we lost that, and my son and I drifted apart, both closed off from each other.”

A tear rolled silently down her cheek.

“Do not weep,” he said softly, reaching over and wiping it away with his thumb. “What happened was not your fault. You could not have prevented it. You were an innocent pawn in an ill person’s game. A game she knew she could not win.”

“I still feel like this all comes down to me,” she said, her voice quiet. “This all happened because of me.”

“The precious memories my son and I both have are because of you,” he told her. “The rest – they are not. They are because of what your mother did.”

“I cannot understand how a mother could turn on her own child,” she said. “How she could tell such evil untruths…try to end my life like that…”

He sighed quietly. “Her reasoning has gone to the grave with her,” he said. “The possibility of us finding out why she did what she did is less than nothing. My only suggestion would be to try to somehow move past it and focus on what lies ahead.”

“Perhaps nothing lies ahead for me,” she said.

“Nonsense. I intend to send word to Legolas in the morning, and have him brought back from patrol,” he replied. “I can only imagine how he will feel at seeing you alive.”

Sad eyes looked at him in the dim light. “Maybe he will not wish to see me,” she said. “You said he took it hard when I was taken away.”

“Both of you were children at the time,” he reasoned. “And both of you are now adults. Things change, observations and conclusions change. Once he fully understands the truth about the past, I can promise he will hold no malice.”

“I do not know if I wish to see him,” she admitted.

His eyebrows came down in a questioning frown. “Why ever not? You were both really close when you were elflings. I do not anticipate a problem when you meet him again.”

“Do you not think too much has happened? Too many things that cannot be un-said, or undone?” she asked, trying to make him understand. “How is he going to react, knowing that I caused so much pain, and coming home to find I have come back? How is he going to feel when he finds out I am only here because I have spent _centuries_ waiting to kill you?”

“He need not find out about that,” he answered. “It does not concern him. It concerns only you and I; none other. The guards who accompanied me that day in the woods will not speak of it. And Tara…listen to me when I say that you are _not_ the cause of the pain we suffered. Your disappearance was, which is something you had nothing to do with. When I found your mother, I searched and searched for you…years passed and still I looked wherever I went. I found no trace of you…anywhere. Eventually I resigned myself to the possibility that you were dead. Perhaps I should have looked harder, searched for longer, I do not know. Perhaps part of the blame should lie with me for not finding you, but it should _never_ lie with you.”

She sighed, sipping her wine. “I was taken in by some dwarves,” she said. “I stayed with them for a long time, learning anything I could from them. They taught me how to read properly, how to write, different customs and beliefs. And to answer your previous question  - about who had taught me to fight?”

He glanced at her.

“You did,” she whispered, and looked away again. “You used to teach Legolas and I, with sticks.”

He laughed softly. “I remember,” he said. “Even then you had a vicious temper when it did not go in your favour.”

“The dwarves knew I’d had elvish teaching, and expanded on that,” she said. “They taught me how to hold myself, how to channel my emotions away from the fight and instead focus on staying alive.”

“They taught you well,” he remarked.

“Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything,” he told her.

“Remember when I had my arrow trained on you? Back in the woods?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I told you to get off your horse,” she said, her voice telling him she was miles away. “I looked into your eyes as you climbed down, and I knew that I could not take your life. Something inside me changed, and I knew I could not go through with what I had lived for, breathed for, existed for, for centuries. And that angered me. It scared me.”

“What changed?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “I do not know. I looked into your eyes, and I did not see the eyes of a cruel, heartless ruler who had abandoned a young child to the wild. I saw the eyes of a big, cuddly bear who had let me run riot around his palace, allowed me to get into all sorts of scrapes and mischief, and had always managed to get me out of trouble with my mother. And at that moment I knew that everything I had conditioned myself for, trained for, _everything…_ it had all been for nothing.”

“Perhaps the child who still lives within you recognised an old friend from years gone by, one who you had trusted and had known without a shadow of a doubt would never have hurt you,” he said after a few moments. “Perhaps the inner child could see what the adult could not.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I think it might be best if you bathed and settled for the night,” he said, sensing how close she was to tears. He knew the battle she fought within her heart and mind had her in turmoil, and she badly needed rest. Even a few hours’ sleep would help her. “I can send a maid to assist you, if that pleases you.”

She shook her head. “I can attend to myself,” she said. “Although thankyou for the offer.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I will arrange for a room for you,” he told her. “Do you have any preference where you wish to be?”

Again she shook her head. “Somewhere comfortable so that I may rest is all I ask,” she answered. “A blanket in a stable would be heaven right now.”

He snorted, rising to his feet and extending a hand to help her stand. “I shall not hear of such preposterous nonsense,” he said. “I am sure I can come up with somewhere much more suiting and comfortable. Come. I will take you to one of the maids, who will draw a bath for you and provide a change of clothing.”

She followed him out of his chambers and along the corridor, where he found a maid and issued his orders. Instructing Tara to go with her, he turned and went in search of somewhere for her to sleep, muttering under his breath about blankets and stables.

*****

Tara lay in the softest bed she had ever come across in her life, snuggled up in warm, soft blankets with her head resting on a feather pillow.

Sleep did not come.

Her mind continued to turn over the day’s events; analysing and dissecting every minute detail. Her heart ached when she thought about the deception her mother had fed her. The knowledge that she had never really known her parent hurt, as she had always looked up to her. If Thranduil hadn’t kept the letter she had written all those years before, she would never have believed him.

But she would recognise her mother’s handwriting anywhere, and knew deep inside that it was genuine. The look of astonishment in his eyes as he had realised finally who she was had carved deep into her heart. She’d seen true heartache and grief in the ice blue depths, and deep within herself she knew that he’d had no part in what had happened.

Rolling over with a sigh, she purposefully closed her eyes and cleared her mind, determined to escape into the world of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

** CHAPTER SIX **

****

Tara wandered slowly along the stone floor, her feet making no noise. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking up at the delicate carvings in the roof above her. Leaves and twisted vines covered the surface, seeming to come alive as she gazed up at them.

She remembered this room.

Her eyes moved to the suit of armour which stood in the corner, and she automatically felt herself drawn to it. A finger traced lightly down the polished steel as she gazed at it in wonder.

“I seem to recall a certain scamp thinking it would be funny to hide herself inside that armour,” a deep voice said behind her.

She turned, and found Thranduil in the open doorway, his hands behind his back.

He smiled, entering the room. “One of the scribes came in here for something, and almost threw himself from the window when you moved.”

She grinned, remembering the scenario he spoke about. “Yes…but I managed to get myself stuck, and could not get out.”

“Legolas flew into the council room, crying about how the armour had eaten you,” he said. “I had to physically lift you out of it before your mother heard about it.”

She laughed. “I do not know how you tolerated us,” she said.

“The honey in my boots was not the most pleasant experience,” he said dryly. “To this day, my son still threatens to do it again.”

Struggling to keep a straight face, she regarded him with innocent eyes. “And you would willingly re-introduce us, knowing what we are capable of?”

A subtle lift of his eyebrows was his silent reply.

“Does…does Legolas know about the letter my mother left you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” he replied. “I could not withhold something like that from him. I did not inform him at the time, as he was far too young to deal with something like that. I waited until he was an adult before showing it to him.”

She took a deep breath as she turned to look out of the window, folding her arms across her abdomen.

“You will not experience any hostility from him,” he said quietly. “His anger and upset at your disappearance turned to mourning once he was aware of the truth. I have no doubt he will be overjoyed at discovering you are alive.”

“Why am I still worried?” she wondered aloud.

“A long time has passed, with many lies and emotions along the way,” he answered. “It stands to reason that you shall feel some apprehension. But I assure you – it is fruitless. You are worrying over nothing.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” she muttered.

“Have you given any thought as to how long you wish to remain here?” he asked suddenly, surprising her.

“I…no, I have not,” she stammered. “I did not come here with the intention of staying, truth be told.”

He smirked. “I understand. However, I find myself unwilling to encourage you to leave. Would you consider staying for some time?”

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

“Perhaps you should wait until you have been reacquainted with my son before you decide,” he said, seeing her uncertainty. “Walk with me. It is getting close to when he should be arriving.”

Feeling the butterflies in her stomach fluttering furiously, she followed him out of the room, where they walked down to the outer courtyard. The air was still pleasantly warm, and she took in a deep breath.

He smiled, seeing her enjoy her surroundings for the first time. Hoping that this would be the first of many such occasions, he walked at her side over the cobbled stones, answering questions she had regarding the horses he kept.

She had started to say something about a horse she had owned in the past, when something caught her eye and she stopped, falling silent. He looked up.

A large grey horse was approaching, the hooves clip-clopping rhythmically over the ground. A blond elf sat astride the animal, his gaze fixed on them.

Her lips parted as he tugged the reins and the horse came to a halt. He slowly slid down, landing neatly beside it.

Thranduil’s gaze flicked between the two, waiting to see what would transpire.

The ellon moved forward a few steps, cautiously.

“Legolas?” Tara whispered. Her heart hammered in her chest.

It had to be the Prince – he was so like his father.

“Tarellethiel?” His soft whisper floated back to her, and she gasped in a breath as she nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Yes,” she replied.

Thranduil held his breath.

Legolas dropped his bow and charged towards them, grabbing her and lifting her off the ground as he twirled round and round with her, laughing and yelling. She clung to him, laughing and crying at the same time. He continued to spin round, until she screamed through her laughter that she was going to be sick.

“I cannot…I cannot believe it is you!” he gasped, setting her down and gripping her upper arms. “It is just…oh my God…Tarellethiel…” He trailed off.

“I know,” she said, wiping her tears away. “Too many years have passed between us, so many untruths and misunderstandings.”

“How…why…I have so many questions, I do not know where to begin,” he said, shaking his head. “How is it that you are here?”

“She was found in the forest, trying to find the palace,” Thranduil replied smoothly. “She needed answers, and had to find me to acquire those answers.”

Legolas just stared at her, astounded that his childhood friend was alive and standing in front of him. “We thought you were dead,” he whispered. “We truly thought you had perished.”

She shook her head. “I am alive and well, as you can see,” she said with a laugh.

Tears flowed from both of them.

“I suggest something to eat and drink, and some time to get reacquainted in the comfort of the palace,” Thranduil said. “The courtyard although a pleasant area, is not the best place for old friends to reminisce.”

“I agree, and I am starved,” Legolas agreed. He held his arm out. “Shall we, my Lady?”

She smiled, resting her hand on his arm and falling into step beside him as they followed the King inside.

*****

Baby blue eyes closed with a look of anguish as Legolas looked away, shaking his head. “I cannot fathom why your mother did what she did,” he murmered, slowly twisting the glass of wine in his hands. “For a mother to have those intentions for her child…to carry so much jealousy…”

“It has been rather difficult to absorb,” Tara admitted. “I never once thought that she might have been telling me untruths. I am at a loss as to how to process it, if I am being honest.”

“It will take time,” Thranduil said quietly. “All three of us have suffered over this matter, and it is time to move on and build upon the truth that we now know.”

His son nodded. “I have heard some evil things, but this…this has to be one of the worst,” he said. “An innocent elfling, a small, vulnerable child who trusted the parent who had given her life. It saddens my heart no end.”

“Perhaps one day I will make peace with what I have learned,” she said. “I have spent my entire life believing the opposite of the truth, and it will take me some time to adjust.”

His eyes met hers. “You must stay here,” he told her. “I truly think that will help, being in the company of those who were once close friends, even though it was only for a short period of time.”

“A short period of time during which we must have driven your father absolutely crazy,” she quipped, a small smile on her face as she sipped her wine.

Thranduil rolled his eyes as Legolas laughed heartily.

“Do you remember we managed to get ourselves locked in the dungeons?” he said. “I imagined nobody would ever find us and we would spent eternity down there.”

“That should have taught you to stay away from places where you were not supposed to be,” Thranduil remarked. “But somehow, it did not.”

“Do you know what one of my favourite memories is?” Legolas asked, his eyes bright. “When we used to sit on his robe and ride around the palace.”

She laughed. “I always thought he was a giant,” she recalled. “I mean, he _is_ exceptionally tall, but when we were young, he seemed _really_ tall.”

Thranduil smirked. “I cannot seem so tall now,” he responded. “You have grown to a considerable height yourself, for a female. I am sure you must only stand a head smaller than myself now.”

“I do not know who I take my height from,” she replied. “I remember my mother seemed tall, but as a small child, everyone looks that way.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From what I remember, she was smaller than you. You must have taken your height from your father.”

Her eyes darkened briefly. “I can barely recall him,” she said softly. “He is just a vague memory, nothing clear or specific.”

“What happened to him?” Legolas asked. “You never spoke of him.”

“He perished on our journey,” she replied. “The details are very vague, but we left East Rohan as a family, but only my mother and I made it as far as Mirkwood.”

A silence descended over the three.

“You did not respond to my suggestion,” the Prince said.

“Regarding?”

“Staying here,” he replied. “Father? Do you not think it will help?”

“I believe that is a decision only Tara herself can make,” he replied. “The offer is there, and she would be more than welcome to stay, for as long as she chooses.” Ice blue eyes turned in her direction.

“I shall consider your kind offer,” she said, crossing one knee over the other. “If I were to remain, I would have to find work, somewhere to live.”

Legolas looked at his father, and the two seemed to read one another’s minds.

“Nonsense,” Thranduil told her. “If you stay, you will stay here in the palace. I would not have you living out in the villages or the forest. And there would be no need for you to work.”

“I have worked all my life,” she told him. “I am not one to laze round doing nothing with my day. It is not in my nature.”

“I will give it some thought,” he said. “But it is not something that requires my urgent attention.”

“But allocating you chambers is,” Legolas said.

“I have no knowledge of agreeing to this,” she pointed out humorously. “Besides, I slept in a perfectly comfortable room last night. I do not need chambers. I have slept outdoors for much of my life.”

“Father, it would appear that it is time for you to intervene and throw your weight around as King,” he said dryly, and Thranduil laughed.

“I have a question,” Tara said suddenly.

Both pairs of eyes looked at her.

“I have very little memory of my mother,” she said quietly. “Do I…do I look like her?”

Legolas leaned back against the back of the comfortable couch he occupied. “I am afraid I cannot answer, as I myself cannot recall too much detail,” he said.

The two of them turned to the King.

“No,” he replied after a short pause. “You do not resemble her. She was smaller in height and build, and her hair was much lighter than yours. Your features are totally different.”

She frowned. “In what way?” she asked.

“Her eyes were hazel; yours are dark blue,” he told her. “Truth be told, your eyes have not changed even the slightest in your transition from a child to an adult. I dare say if I had paid more attention and looked deeper, I would have recognised you immediately.”

She looked away, absorbing this new information.

“I always recall large, dark blue eyes, with thick, dark lashes,” he said. He drew a pattern on the arm of his chair with his index finger as he spoke. “Every time you were in trouble, you would look up at me with those big eyes, and I did not have the heart to turn you over to her for punishment, no matter what mischief you had been up to. She knew I shielded you, and it vexed her even further.”

Legolas smiled.

“I dare say she loved you, Tara, but she was harsh and strict with you,” Thranduil continued. “It almost appeared sometimes as though she did not want you to have fun.”

“And as we already know, she was intensely jealous of the attention you gave her child,” his son remarked. He sighed, shaking his head.

“She was mourning the death of her husband, and in blind grief, thought she could fill that empty void he had left behind,” he said. “I have seen similar in others over the years. Unfortunately, her attentions turned towards myself, and I was not in a place in life where I would consider taking another lover. I did the opposite; I closed down away from others almost completely. I am not saying it was the correct way to deal with my sorrow, but it is how I coped through it.”

“Everyone reacts in a different manner, I would presume,” Tara murmered. “I dare say one would have to be in that situation before they could decide how they were going to cope with it.”

“Precisely,” he answered. “No two beings are the same. Some accept fate and move on reasonably quickly, and others do not.”

Legolas drained the last of his wine, setting the empty glass on the low table in front of him. Sprawled on one end of the couch, his childhood friend sat on the other end, while Thranduil had taken the seat on the other side of the table. “Well I must say, I am glad you are here,” he said, turning to smile at her. “It has been a long, difficult road, not knowing of your fate.”

She nodded. “I have had to face truths which I did not know existed and did not want to accept, but I too am glad I came here.” Her gaze met Thranduil’s, and he held it until she looked away again, saying nothing.

“May I suggest a celebratory feast?” Legolas said, glancing at his father. “I believe this calls for a spectacular celebration, having Tara back in our lives.” He grinned hopefully.

“Good grief,” she muttered. “I do not see the need for such an event.”

“Nonsense,” he shot back immediately. “One thing I know of my father, is that he never misses an opportunity to throw a get-together.”

Thranduil laughed. “You read my mind, my son,” he remarked. “I had similar thoughts myself, but wished to wait and see if Tara chose to remain here.”

Both males looked at her.

She threw her hands up in the air is resignation. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Legolas laughed.

“Good. I shall put Tarella to organising such an event,” the King decided. “She excels herself when she plans these things, and no doubt will be in her element.”

Tara rolled her eyes, and took another drink of her wine.


	7. Chapter 7

** CHAPTER SEVEN **

****

Preparations were well underway for the upcoming feast.

The elves who resided in the palace accepted Tara’s presence, and some even remembered her from her childhood. She found herself gradually relaxing in her surroundings, even after exchanging words with Thranduil over the chambers he had allocated her.

Set next to the royal quarters, they consisted of a spacious, comfortable bedroom, bathing area, and a relaxing lounge area. Fine tapestries adorned the walls, and the furnishings were hand-made by masters of the craft. Large windows looked out over the immaculate gardens below and the forest stretching out beyond. Luxuriously heavy curtains of the finest quality fabric hung at the windows.

The wardrobe was filled with clothing; each outfit a perfect fit for her. Consisting of gowns in an array of colours she had seldom seen in her life and in every style she could imagine, she found herself feeling more comfortable in trousers and tunics most days. Being accustomed to wearing this clothing, she felt more like herself.

But she was bored.

Wandering the halls one afternoon, she followed her ears as she heard the distant sound of screeching metal. Knowing from experience that the sound could only come from swords in combat, she made her way towards the racket, and found herself in the doorway of a large room.

Thranduil and a guard faced off against each other, locked in fierce battle.

Tara leaned against the door frame, folding her arms as she observed discreetly.

The tall ruler moved swiftly in attack, his blade slicing through the air with no effort at all. The guard defending backed away, but he pursued. Concentration brought his eyebrows down into a slight frown, a focused look in his eyes. Smooth, fluid moves carried him across the floor in what could be taken as a poetic dance. Sure, confident footsteps and masterful twists and turns aided him as he pushed his opponent further and further, until he was backed against the wall in surrender.

Thranduil stepped back and swished the sword with a flourish, both ellon bowing in respect to each other.

He swivelled on his heel and turned to face her, his chin lifting slightly in challenge. Using two fingers, he beckoned her further into the room, and she shifted her weight and decided to comply. The guard bowed to her as he left.

“I have seen some of what you can do,” Thranduil said, his deep voice echoing around the room. “Now I wish to see what else you have to show me.”

She smiled.

He selected a sword and started to turn back to her, but thought better of it, and chose a second one. “I believe you fight in a similar style to my own, with twin blades,” he said.

“I am ambidextrous, so it suits me better to have two,” she replied, taking both weapons from him. Spinning them around, she tested their weight and handling, glancing at him with a nod. “These are suitable.”

“Good,” he said, striding to the centre of the room. Both his swords slid from their scabbards. Ice blue eyes stared into hers as he twirled them around with a slight swishing sound. “I am already aware of a few weak points you have, and I wish to know what others you have, so that you can improve on them.”

Her eyebrows came down in a frown. “I do not have weak points,” she retorted.

“Yes, you do,” he informed her. “Otherwise, I would not have been able to relieve you of one of your weapons that day in the forest.”

“And as I recall, I returned the favour,” she replied.

He smirked. “Only because I allowed you to. I told you – I did not intend to harm you. Only to put you in your rightful place.”

One eyebrow lifted. “That place being _beneath_ you? _Inferior_ to your superiority? I think not,” she said.

His mouth twitched slightly in amusement. She had just showed her major weakness.

Her anger.

She dropped rapidly into a lunge as he swung both swords in her direction, the steel whistling through the air over her head. Lifting hers, she swiped upwards and outwards, sending them to either side. “Too slow,” she whispered.

He caught the flash of fire in her eyes, and in a heartbeat sliced to her left. She leapt backwards, flipping one of her blades upwards to deflect his. Her other swung downwards, forcing his towards the floor.

Metal screeched in angry protest as he flipped his back up, his strength overpowering her. Bouncing from one foot to the other, she turned in rapid circles, advancing towards him with her swords flipping round her at speed.

Her move caught him by surprise, but her weapons held at different heights left her lower body open to attack, and he thrust one blade towards her, coming to a sudden stop as it brushed her thigh.

She stopped, frozen.

“Your defence is weak when you attack in such a style,” he said, and whipped the weapon away from her.

Her eyes blazed with anger, but she said nothing. Maintaining eye contact, she breathed evenly, sizing up his next move.

Her head tipped back as he swung his sword in a sideways motion, just missing her throat as her upper body leaned back out of his reach. Her own blade flew upwards, deflecting his trajectory and knocking his arm aside. Her other automatically flew round to block his other, and she pushed it out of her way. Knowing most of her attention was on her secondary move, a deft flick of his wrist sent her first weapon out of her grasp and skittering across the floor.

He smirked at the fury that blazed in her dark blue eyes.

“Luck,” she said.

“Experience,” he corrected. “You are far too easy to read.”

The fury blazed hotter. “Yet I managed to take down four spiders in a matter of seconds,” she reminded him.

“Yes…you did. They however, did not have the power to foresee your moves and think ahead of you. I do.”

“Arrogant,” she remarked.

“Competent,” he smirked.

Her eyes narrowed just the slightest, but it was enough for him to anticipate the sudden movement of her remaining weapon as it flipped up at her back, swinging down over her shoulder towards him, and he quickly brought both of his upwards and forced it back up again. The strength behind his action forced her back a step or two, and he took advantage of this and pushed her further back.

Her blade clashed against his as her temper flowed through her weapon, with deafening screeches that seemed to intensify as her anger burned. He deflected each blow with ease, which irritated her further.

A stroke of inspiration hit her and she side-stepped, using the tip of her sword to flip one of his out of his grasp.

“Resourceful,” he commented.

“Skilled,” she replied. Lunging towards him, she sent his blade to one side and relied on the amazing agility of her heritage as she leapt upwards, bracing her free hand on his shoulder and flipping over his back to land behind him. In a heartbeat he had turned and attacked her, knocking her off-balance as she staggered backwards. Her sword frantically battled against his, and she grabbed the opportunity to relieve him of it as the slight chance to do so presented itself.

The tip of her blade swept to the side as he lost his grip.

She gasped in shock as his hands shot forwards and grabbed her waist, lifting her bodily and throwing her backwards. Landing on the floor, she wheezed to breathe as the air was knocked from her. Agonizing pain shot through her back as she lay there, blinking in shock.

Cold, sharp steel pressed against her throat as he loomed over her, his long hair swishing over her bare arms as he leaned down.

“Do _not_ leave yourself vulnerable,” he hissed, his eyes blazing. “That was a ridiculous move, and would have resulted in your death, had you been in true combat.”

Her feet kicked up and connected hard with his torso, sending him reeling back. Bouncing to her feet, she charged at him and tackled him, catching him unawares and sending the both of them crashing to the floor.

Before she knew what was happening, he flipped her over onto her back and pinned both hands over her head using only one of his, the other fisting in her hair and holding her still. “Do _not_ underestimate the strength of your enemy,” he said angrily.

Her chest heaved as she breathed hard, her adrenalin levels peaking.

He slowly released her, pushing himself to his feet.

Cold, angry eyes held hers as he extended a hand. “Stand,” he commanded.

Ignoring his offer of help, she leapt to her feet.

He took a deep breath, insulted. “You have much to learn,” he said. “You have more weakness than I first thought.”

“You invite me to spar, then criticise my performance,” she shot back. “Are you always such a graceful host?”

“When I am improving your skills, yes,” he replied. “As long as you remain in this realm, you are my responsibility, and I will not have you put at risk should you be in a confrontation with an enemy which would bring harm to you.”

“I have defended myself successfully for many centuries,” she retorted.

Ice blue ice slid in her direction. “It would appear that for some reason, the gods chose to favour you,” he told her. “I choose to perfect your skills. Or lack of, in this case.”

She stormed past him, anger bursting through her. Her shoulder bumped his arm as she moved.

His arm shot out and blocked her, moving her back to stand before him. “You have one major fault in battle,” he said, gazing down into the stormy eyes which glared up at him. “I will give you until sunrise tomorrow to tell me what it is.” With that, he turned and swept from the room, leaving her standing there speechless.

*****

“I hear you faced off against my father,” Legolas chuckled, leaning back against the massive tree-trunk and crossing his feet at the ankles as he sat along the thick branch.

Tara scowled at him, and sank her teeth into a juicy red apple.

“I also hear it did not end well,” he went on.

She ignored him, making him laugh harder.

“Oh come on, he is the best warrior to ever have lived!” he said. “What did you expect? To actually win against him?”

“He goaded me into fighting him solely so he could tear apart what I did,” she hissed.

“Knowing my father, I doubt that,” he replied. “He would have been looking to improve your stance, your strengths, close off any weaknesses you might have.”

She grunted, chewing the sweet fruit.

“Tara, listen to me,” he said, uncrossing his feet and swinging his legs down. “My father does not randomly pick elleths to train. He must see something in you which he knows would be beneficial to you if developed further. For him to personally take an interest speaks volumes – he has a thousand soldiers who could train with you in a split second.”

She snorted softly, still wounded and angry at how he had spoken to her. “He has changed,” she said.

He frowned. “In what way?”

“I do not remember him being so…what is the word…cutting? Condescending?”

Legolas roared with laughter. “Oh Tara, you have seen nothing! He always treated you differently when we were young elflings, and I guarantee that has not changed even though we are adults. I promise that however he treated you will have been a thousand times better than the way he treats others. Believe me. What you experienced was nothing.”

“You mean he speaks to everybody like shit?” she retorted.

“You have been around the humans for too long, my friend,” he said, humour in his voice. “Such language from a lady! And I would say that if someone deserves to be spoken to in a harsh way, he will do it. But his way of dealing with people is perhaps different from how you or I would. Remember, as King he must maintain certain...expectations. He cannot simply drop down onto the floor and have a bottle of wine and a laugh with the guards, or do anything which would make an example of himself. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly. “I think I do,” she murmered. “Like all his feelings are locked away.”

“Yes,” he said sadly, looking down at his feet. “I remember he was like that when I was a child…after my mother died. He seemed to come to life again, one winter many, many years ago.”

His eyes met hers, and she swallowed.

“But after you disappeared, he went back to his old ways,” he continued. “I think your presence gave him something to think about, perhaps took him away from the cold isolation he had imposed on himself and his feelings. He had no time to be isolated…he spent all his time dragging us out of trouble and dangerous situations!”

She grinned. “I remember,” she said. “Those are memories which will live within me forever.” Her eyes sparkled. “What are you doing tonight?”

He frowned in confusion. “Sleeping, most probably,” he replied. “Why?”

“Not anymore,” she said.


	8. Chapter 8

** CHAPTER EIGHT **

****

Thranduil breezed along the corridor, opening the door of his study.

He came to an abrupt stop.

His nostrils flared as he looked around.

His desk, which usually sat towards the far end of the room, was behind the door. The tall bookcase which faced the window now sat covering the glass, shutting out all daylight. All the books had been rearranged, the careful cataloguing of the works lost in a jumble of random placements. The couch which had been behind the door was propped up on one end in the corner, with his chair from behind his desk upside down up on the end of it.

The long voile-like drapes that were _supposed_ to hang on either side of the window had been tied in large, artful bows on the candle-holders mounted on the wall.

He sighed.

Turning to his desk tucked behind the door, his nose twitched. He smelled wine, and frowned as he narrowed his eyes at the inkwell. Closer inspection revealed it held no ink, but a strong red wine instead.

Summoning two guards into the room, he gestured around. “Fix this calamity,” he ordered. “And bring me those two menaces.”

*****

Tara laughed boisterously and hopped up onto the balustrade, tossing a peach in the air and catching it. “You can run, my friend, but you cannot hide!” she roared, throwing the fruit with force.

Legolas screeched and ducked.

The peach stopped mid-air as it thumped into Thranduil’s open hand. He glared at his son, before moving at speed and wrapping one strong arm around Tara’s waist, swinging her bodily down from the stone.

Dropping the fruit back into her hand, he stared at her. “Do _not_ get yourself into dangerous situations,” he snapped. “One wrong move and you would have fallen to your death. I do not relish the idea of having to scrape your blood and body parts from my walkway.” Turning to his son, he glowered. “You should know better than to participate in this nonsense,” he told him.

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it again.

His father sighed. “I can see I shall have to keep you two menaces apart,” he said. “I sent my guards to find you hours ago, yet they could not locate you. Where were you? What else have you been destroying?”

“Nothing,” Tara answered, hiding a grin. “We went for a walk and spent some time with the horses.”

His eyes moved to her. “I have no doubt I shall find the poor beasts with either no tails, or housed in the wrong stables with the pigs,” he said dryly.

She merely lifted her eyebrows, biting into the peach.

He turned to Legolas. “I believe you are going to re-join the patrol in the morning,” he told him. “Should you not be thinking of checking your equipment?”

Taking the hint and knowing he was getting off easily, he bowed in respect and vacated the room, leaving his father alone with Tara.

He turned to her. “Well?”

“Well what?”

One eyebrow lifted slightly. “Do you have an answer to my challenge? You have had all night to consider it, setting aside the time you spent artfully rearranging my study.”

She bit into the peach again, trying not to laugh. “I have given it some consideration,” she told him.

“And your conclusion is..?” He stood tall before her, his hands clasped behind his back.

“My weakness is my initial stroke,” she replied. “I slash too wide, and leave myself open to attack.”

He slowly shook his head. “You are wrong.”

She frowned.

“You do make a reasonable point, but that is something that can be worked on and fixed with minimal effort,” he continued. “You have a major flaw in your style, and it is not that.”

Another bite. “I disagree.”

“That is your right,” he conceded. “However, I am able to see it very clearly, so therefore others will also.” He took the fruit from her, took a bite out of it and handed it back to her. “You have not given this as much consideration as I thought you would have. I am disappointed.”

She glared at him as he turned and walked towards the doorway, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold.

“Shall we test your hand-to-hand combat skills to prove my point?”

Taking a final bite and throwing the leftovers into the wastebasket in the corner, she squared her shoulders and followed him.

He led her in silence along a maze of passages, emerging in the warm, sunny environment of the tree-filled section of the gardens. Turning to face her, he shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, leaving himself clothed in his tunic and leggings. The heavy fabric dropped to the grass and he stepped away from it.

An unexpected spark shot through her, but she pushed it aside, and stepped forwards. “This will be interesting,” she commented.

“Indeed,” he replied with a grin. “I intend to discover _every_ weakness you have, exploit every one of them, and then strengthen them.”

“Who says I have more than one?” she demanded.

“I do.”

She huffed softly. “I dare say you have a weakness or two of your own.”

“Then it, or them, have not made themselves known,” he replied.

“Until now.” Her determined gaze held his, challenging him in an unspoken battle.

“This is not a battle of strength, but a battle of skill,” he said. “It goes without saying that a male is stronger than a female. This is in no way set to question your strength, but more so that I may see where you require work.”

She swung both her arms upwards in an x-formation as he spoke, knocking his aside in a swift movement as he zeroed in on her. Taking a single step back, she jabbed a punch, but he caught her fist in his hand and twisted it aside. A sharp kick with her left leg caught his thigh, and his hand lowered to grasp her ankle as her foot connected with the hard muscle.

His fingers tightened, causing her to gasp slightly. She inhaled deeply, not breaking his gaze, and flipped her body upwards, swinging her right leg around to connect with a hard thump against his left shoulder. The impact made him release her, and she crashed to the grass, quickly rolling onto all fours and bouncing to her feet.

He kicked back, connecting with her knee and she buckled, dropping back to the grass. She rolled away as he advanced over her, flipping herself to his side as opposed to facing him. Both feet shot out and battered against the back of his knees, and he wobbled, giving her time to stand. She shot forwards, sliding her arms under his and up over his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his neck.

The next thing she knew, he had thrown her over his back and she lay flat on the grass, winded and gasping.

He circled her, not out of breath or phased in the slightest.

“Fuck,” she panted.

An eyebrow twitched at her language, but he said nothing.

She got back up, rolling her shoulders and massaging her back as she mentally assessed him. His eyes were expressionless.

His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist, but she twisted it around and gripped the back of his, forcing his body away from her. As soon as his back was turned, she dropped her hold and bounced up onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arm over his throat in a chokehold. Heaving her body to her right, she toppled him off-balance and the pair landed on the ground.

Unfortunately, his weight crushed her leg and rendered her immobile. He took advantage and twisted round, using one palm to pin her shoulder down.

Her anger began to bubble.

Her right knee slid between them and she pushed hard against his abdomen, shifting him slightly, giving her enough room to twist her hips and roll him to one side. Both legs braced against his body and shoved him completely off her, and she shot to her feet. He was upright too before she could register he had even moved.

His actions were swift and determined as he attacked her, watching how she deflected his blows and protected herself. His moves weren’t designed to hurt her, which she somehow knew, but she was feeling pain with the speed and force. She ended up with him pressed tightly against her back. One arm clamped over the top of her thighs and the other pinning her arms to her side.

Grunting in anger and frustration, she wriggled and fought against him, but his hold was too strong. In a fit of temper she whipped her head back, catching his cheek.

He released her and threw her back against a tree, winding her yet again. His hand pressed hard against her throat, and she couldn’t move.

His free hand lifted and he absent-mindedly traced his fingertips over the red blemish on his cheekbone, his eyes on her.

She refused to apologise.

“Have you reached a reasonable answer?” he asked.

Her nostrils flared.

He released his hold on her and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have put you through enough. You must now correctly identify the weakness I speak of,” he told her. His gaze dropped to the red finger marks on her neck and throat, but he said nothing.

She leaned forwards, resting her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. Her long black hair hung over her shoulders, which heaved with the effort of breathing. “You can obviously see things which I cannot,” she gasped.

He tutted softly, extending a hand. She took it, and he tugged her upright. Turning and lifting his cloak, he draped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed over the front of her body. “Your adrenalin will crash and you will feel cold,” he explained. “Come. I have bruised you; the healers will tend to them.”

“They are only marks,” she said, but winced quietly as she followed him back over the grass.

He turned to look back at her, concern in his eyes. “The purpose of this exercise was not to hurt you,” he said.

“I understand,” she replied. “A hot drink and a rest, and I shall be fine.”

He frowned. “You require medical attention,” he decided, taking her arm and guiding her inside. She allowed him to take her to the healers without any fuss, her silent agreement to treatment concerning him.

*****

He found her hours later, after darkness had fallen. She was curled up in his library, reading. Several candles cast light onto the pages of her book, and highlighted her frown of concentration.

She glanced up as she sensed, rather than heard him approach.

He lowered himself to sit beside her on the couch, albeit leaving a small space between them. “Something interesting?” he asked, indicating the book she held.

She closed it with a smile. “Yes. I have heard much of Mithrandir, and wished to know more of his life before I met with him.”

“When did you meet him?”

“Many years ago,” she replied. “He was in the company of the humans who reside in Lake Town, and they had made the journey to Dale for supplies. I happened to be there at the same time, and a conversation struck.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. “And did he have any interesting knowledge to part with?”

“No,” she answered with a short laugh. “He grumbled mostly, something about the selfishness and greed of others. I assume he meant those he was with.”

He nodded.

“He knew who I was,” she added, glancing at him. “I did not tell him, but he appeared to know me, in a strange sort of way.”

“He can almost see into our minds, if we allow him to,” he replied. “He is a clever man, even if he is cantankerous.” He paused. “What did he say?”

“He told me to follow my heart to the truth, which I thought was a very odd thing for a stranger to say,” she told him. “I do not know exactly what he knows, or how much he knows, but it was odd advice nevertheless.”

“But it was true advice,” he pointed out. “You followed your heart here, and you have learned the truth.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“But you must learn to work _with_ that truth, rather than against it,” he said. His hand nearest her lifted, and he touched one finger to her temple. “You must fight with this.” His finger moved to touch her chest, just above her heart. “And not this. That is your weakness, Tarellethiel.” His hand lowered again.

She stared at him, her jaw clenching. Finally looking away, she took a deep breath.

“You fight with anger, with hatred, with grief,” he said softly. “And it will be your undoing if you cannot control it, my little moonbeam. A true warrior fights with logic, preparation, and precision. You fight with the hatred you have carried for me for centuries, and now for the anger over the lies you have discovered. Those emotions are not conducive for a warrior to achieve victory.”

He noticed her cheek muscle tighten.

“This can be rectified,” he told her. “And there are many ways to achieve this. Do not give up so easily; it is not in your nature.”

“My nature is to avenge the past,” she whispered, turning tear-filled eyes to his in the dim light. “It is all I have ever known.”

“I understand that,” he said, his voice equally as soft as hers. “Yet the day you attacked me in the forest…it was not the first time you lay in wait, was it?”

She shook her head.

“I have felt an unknown presence out in the woods many times, but as no danger came from it, I chose not to follow up on it,” he said. “Now it seems like that presence was you.”

“I watched you for years,” she said. “Watched how you carried yourself, your fighting style, everything. I had to be prepared for when I chose to do what I had set out to do.” She sighed. “I feel perhaps I should leave here, even if I return some time in the future, I feel I need some space away from everything.”

“Away from the cold, harsh light of day?” he said.

Her head flipped round. “You make it sound as though I am running away,” she accused.

“Are you not?”

“No. I am trying to put some perspective on things,” she snapped.

“And leaving here will achieve such a thing how? And where will you go?” he asked. “Like I said…you fight with your emotions, your heart – not your mind and your sense of logic.”

“I feel that I cannot comprehend everything right now,” she said. “There has been far too much to take in…centuries of anger and hatred, planning revenge…finding out that everything in my life has been a huge falsehood. That is enough to floor anyone.”

“This is true, but you have an inner strength in you that you are not yet aware of,” he said. “Otherwise, you would not have had the endurance to hold out this long and make your way here to Mirkwood.”

“They say that everything happens for a reason,” she murmered, turning her head to gaze out of the window at the clear, dark sky. Stars sparkled like priceless gems. “The future is already carved in stone. We just have to find our true path and follow it.”

“Perhaps you have finally found yours, after all these years,” he responded. He shifted from his position, rising to his feet. “Think about it. Sleep well.”

She followed him with her eyes as he retreated, leaving her alone once more.


	9. Chapter 9

** CHAPTER NINE **

****

“I have had just about enough of this,” Thranduil grunted under his breath, planting both fists on his hips. “LEGOLAS! TARELLETHIEL!” His roar echoed throughout the palace.

Guards scampered for cover.

He heaved a sigh, yanking clothing out of his wardrobe. Several tunics had been stitched along the sleeves and the bottom hems, making them ridiculously useless. Roughly six pairs of trousers had met the same fate, stitched along the waists and the leg bottoms. No doubt his son had not physically done this, because as far as he was aware, Legolas had no idea of the difference between one end of a sewing needle and a tree trunk.

Tara’s head appeared round the doorframe, an innocent look on her face.

“Your handiwork, I presume?” he ground out, gesturing to the clothing strewn over his bed.

“Hmmm, you must be a sound sleeper if you did not hear someone commit such an act,” she said casually.

“I was in a meeting for most of the night,” he replied, searching through the clothes to make sure no more altered garments were hidden. “As you well know.”

“I know nothing,” she said.

He walked towards her, coming to a stop an inch away from her. “Sarcasm does not become you, my little moonbeam,” he whispered. “Where is my son?” he demanded, drawing back to his full height and stepping back slightly. “No doubt he is still asleep, having been up half the night taking part in this nonsense.”

She choked back a snigger, turning it into a discreet cough.

“I shall breathe easier when you two are separated and he is back with the patrol,” he muttered, brushing past her and challenging one of the guards to locate the absent elf.

His irritated tirade ended abruptly as Legolas rounded the corner, presenting himself to his father.

“Sleep late, did we?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Tara watched the exchange between the two.

“No…I was packing the rest of my things,” the Prince replied, at a genuine loss as to why his parent was vexed.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “And you had nothing to do with this…this…oh never mind,” he muttered. “I have enough to deal with today, without you two driving me mad.”

Legolas frowned in confusion at her, and she stifled a giggle, earning a glare from the King as he proceeded to enter his chambers once more.

“I assume you have everything ready to leave after breakfast?” he asked.

“Yes,” his son replied.

“May I accompany him?” Tara asked suddenly.

“Absolutely not,” Thranduil retorted immediately.

Her face fell. “Why not?”

“Because I said no, and my word is final,” he snapped. “It is far too dangerous, for one thing. You would have to go through rigorous training before I would even consider such a request. And you have more to learn within these walls before you could think about patrol training.”

Her eyes slid sideways towards Legolas.

“Do not underestimate me,” Thranduil warned softly, catching the look. “I know mischief when I see it. You will _not_ be accompanying him. And if I have to put you under guard until he has gone, then make no mistake…I will not hesitate to do so.”

Her eye brows came down in a slight frown, and he smirked to himself as he turned away again.

“There is plenty here to keep you out of trouble until he returns,” he mused. “In the meantime, you may content yourself with undoing the work you carried out through the night, once we have had breakfast.”

“What…” Legolas began, and broke off with a snort as he realised what his friend had done.

Muttering under his breath, his father pushed past the two of them and headed towards the banquet hall for something to eat.

*****

A week passed, then another.

Legolas returned from patrol partway through the second week, stayed in the palace for three nights, then set off on a quest with his unit of guards.

Tara worked hard on both her swordsmanship and her fighting skills, under the expert tuition of Thranduil. Her days were long, the practice sessions difficult, and her muscles ached to a depth she had never experienced before.

Through it all, the calm and collected ruler maintained his patience, pointing out mistakes and guiding her where she needed it most. Several times a day she would explode in anger, and each time he would let her react and wait until she had simmered down before continuing.

Nothing seemed to anger him.

And that irritated her even more.

She rediscovered old friendships from her childhood, as several of the maids remembered the impish child who would follow her King loyally from one end of the palace to the other, from dawn until dusk, day after day. Her free time, when not training or relaxing in the comfortable area of his private library reading, was spent in the company of these maids.

She was in the middle of folding laundry with them one particular morning, deep in conversation about the upcoming wedding of one of them.

“I would wager that you cannot sleep at night, Calath,” she grinned, folding a massive bedsheet neatly.

The maid blushed. “I am counting down the nights,” she admitted. “It seems like it has been forever waiting for the wedding.”

“I am sure he will be worth the wait,” Asira, another maid, replied. “Your future husband is a fine example of a strong guard, and favoured highly by the King.”

Calath smiled. “He is not the only one favoured by our King,” she said coyly, glancing in Tara’s direction.

“What?” she said, eyes wide. “Oh no, do not even think that. I fully expect to be banished at some point by him; I fear he cannot take anymore pranks, yet I seem to find myself thinking of better ones each day.”

“You are the _only_ elleth I have ever seen him let away with so much,” Asira said. “I remember when you were just an elfling, a mere baby. You could do no wrong in his eyes.”

“She still cannot,” a third maid, Ranora, interjected. “I cannot even begin to think of the punishment he would administer should any of us do what Tara does!”

The four of them laughed.

“I shall never forget the stag as long as I live,” Calath said. “The look on the King’s face was absolutely priceless; I can still see it now.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “You forget I had a willing accomplice,” she said dryly. “I did not act alone – Legolas was a more than willing participant.”

“And I see nothing has changed,” Ranora observed. “The two of you together would give the King worry lines within a month!”

“You would make a good couple,” Asira remarked thoughtfully. “Have you…”

“Good God no!” Tara replied, shocked. “Legolas is a very dear friend, almost like a brother! Certainly not!”

Asira looked disappointed.

Tara swiftly changed the subject, uncomfortable with the direction it had taken. Someone in the palace had indeed caught her eye, and the attraction was working hard at catching her heart as well, as much as she tried to ignore it.

The group continued to chatter amongst themselves as they worked, discussing the style of the wedding gown the bride-to-be had chosen.

Later on that night, Tara lay wide awake in her chambers, staring into the darkness.

She no longer looked at Thranduil through the eyes of a child, but through the eyes of a woman.

And that disturbed her a great deal.

Considering she had set out to end his life and wreak revenge for the past, she had found herself falling under an entirely different spell than the one she had fallen under as a young child. The King epitomised _everything_ that a strong ruler should be.

Strong. Courageous. Patient. Determined. Loyal.

And she had never set eyes on a more stunningly handsome being in her whole life. Tall and proud, with long blond hair that fell to his waist and ice blue eyes that could see into her soul, he hypnotised her every time she saw him. Each time he spoke, his voice fused itself into her, sparking deep emotions and a sense of awareness that she had never known.

Training with him, while a thoroughly enjoyable experience, had become torture for her. Their practice was always one-to-one, in close confines, with intimate body contact, and several times she had found herself aroused beyond her understanding.

It distracted her, and her progress began to slow.

“What troubles you, my little moonbeam?” he asked one evening.

“Troubles me? Nothing,” she replied, aiming her arrow at the target in front of her.

Thranduil stood to one side, observing every move. “Your stance is wrong,” he told her, moving to stand behind her. His foot nudged hers, encouraging her to move. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, pulling them back a little towards him, and she felt the solid warmth of his chest against her. “Lift this elbow a little,” he said, as his fingers gently applied pressure to the underside of the joint.

She swallowed, aware of his warm breath on the back of her neck as she concentrated on the target.

“Extend this elbow outwards just a hair’s breadth,” his soft voice commanded her.

She complied, her heart thumping hard.

He leaned closer, his arm stretching along hers to reposition her hold on the bow. “Much better,” he said, stepping back. “Now relax. Breathe. Clear your mind.”

Her eyes narrowed as she forced her attention away from the warrior at her back to her target. Closing off from everything around her, the world seemed to fade into nothing, and she released the arrow. It shot forwards and thumped into the target, a fraction to the left of the bull.

“A good effort,” he said, bringing her back to the present.

“Not good enough,” she said as she glanced at him and lifted another arrow. “I know I can do better.”

The corners of his lips tugged upwards. “I can see your temper making itself known,” he said. “You will not succeed if you allow it to surface. You know this.”

“If I do not by now, then I never shall,” she bit back, taking aim. “You remind me several hundred times a day.”

“For your own benefit,” he replied. “Perhaps one day you will have the need to fall back on what I have taught you, and it may save your life. I hope you are never in such a situation, but no one knows what the future holds.”

“No,” she agreed, releasing the arrow with a resounding _thwack._ “I know this better than most.” Her arrow landed slightly off centre again, and she sighed in exasperation and exhaustion.

“I think you have practised enough for this day,” he commented. “Walk with me.”

She handed her weapons to a guard who stood unobtrusively off to one side, they bowed to each other and she followed Thranduil away from the practice range.

“I sense a deep unrest within you,” he murmered, his hands at their usual place behind his back as they walked.

She considered her reply. “I would not say a deep unrest,” she said, falling into step beside him. “I am still working through what I have learned, and it is going to take time.”

“Quite possibly more time than you are expecting,” he answered. “I have the opinion that you expect far too much within far too small a period of time. And I am seldom wrong with my observations.”

“Somehow, I do not doubt that,” she muttered, and he grinned.

“Things went well with Legolas, as I said they would,” he said. “Again, I knew the outcome before it happened. You worry too much when you have no need to.”

“One could not be blamed for worrying,” she pointed out.

“True, although one would do well to pay heed to those older and more experienced than themselves,” he replied. “Especially when those who are older are centuries old.”

“Old man,” she laughed.

“Age is but a number,” he said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Remember that when you are yelling at me for hiding things from you,” she shot back, and he drew her a sideways look, keeping his thoughts to himself.

They walked towards the banquet area, where a meal was being laid out.

“When is Legolas due back?” she asked.

“I would estimate by the next new moon,” he said.

Something picked away in the back of his mind, but he was unsure what it was, and frowned.

“I look forward to it,” she said, passing under his arm as he held the doors open for her.

He followed her into the hall, still with his frown.


	10. Chapter 10

** CHAPTER TEN **

****

Legolas returned within two weeks, and he and Tara stuck together like glue. Tara was glad of the distraction, as being around his father so often was having a serious effect on her. If Thranduil noticed, he said nothing, but she was very aware of her changing thoughts and feelings, and wasn’t comfortable with them at all.

Thranduil remained a solid source of support and guidance, taking her through rigorous training and practice sessions, and spending his free time with her. They talked a lot about the past, her mother, and what had happened in their lives since she had been taken away from the safety of the palace centuries before.

Not long after Legolas’s return, he was out on a night patrol on the near side of the forest, and she was restless. She hadn’t left the palace grounds since being captured by the guards the day she had attacked the King, and her feet were itching to go off and explore.

Knowing Thranduil would put his foot down and deciding that he wasn’t her father so she could go if she pleased, she sneaked off under the cover of darkness in search of her friend.

Finding him without too much effort, she stealthily climbed a tree nearby and sat high in the branches in wait for him and his group of guards to pass underneath.

Letting out a scream that could have risen the dead, she dropped out of the tree and crashed onto his back, sending him tumbling from his horse and rolling onto the forest floor with a volley of curses.

“Tara!” he yelled, jumping to his feet, his eyes wide with fright.

She burst out laughing and rolled onto her side, tears of laughter rolling down her face.

“Oh my God Tara, that was _not_ funny!” he said, brushing leaves and dirt from his clothing.

She couldn’t speak for laughing. “You should have seen your face!” she howled eventually, and he started to laugh despite himself.

“I hate you, you know that?!” He tried to sound angry, but failed miserably.

“No you do not,” she challenged. “I brighten up your mundane life.”

He nodded, trying to wipe the grin from his face. “You are nothing but trouble, my Lady,” he told her, pulling her to her feet. “How did you get so close without being noticed?”

“Because I am _that_ good,” she shot back. “I have years’ experience of sneaking around without being detected.”

“Somehow, I think I am better off not asking,” he muttered. “We were about to stop for something to eat; will you join us?”

“I would love to,” she said enthusiastically.

The guards had relaxed, knowing that their Prince was not in any danger, and they sat down under the trees to eat.

“Does my father know you are out here?” Legolas asked, tearing off a piece of bread.

“I do not know what he knows,” she replied.

“Now there is a diplomatic answer if ever I heard one,” he said to no one in particular. “He will go mad if he finds you gone from the palace.”

She shrugged, chewing her own bread. “I will return in a few hours,” she said. “And there will be no harm done.”

“I shall remember those words,” he grinned. “How is training?”

She grunted. “Difficult,” she told him. “Apparently I _do_ have as many faults as Thranduil pointed out, so he is working with me on improving my style and technique.”

“You are learning from the best,” he assured her.

The guards chatted amongst themselves, set a little away from the pair.

“I know this, and I appreciate the time and effort he is putting in,” she said. “But some days I feel like his time is wasted.”

“If he thought it was, he would not continue,” he assured her. “Trust me – my father does nothing without looking at every possible outcome. If he had even the slightest notion that you would not succeed, he would not be doing this.”

She snorted. “He says I expect far too much, too soon.”

“He is right.”

She scowled at her friend. “Who’s side are you on?” she demanded.

He laughed. “Whichever side gives me no earache,” he said. “As a point of interest-“

“As a point of interest, you will return to the palace immediately,” a deep voice interrupted.

All heads swivelled in the one direction, to see a furious Thranduil emerge from the trees. Even in the moonlight, his face showed immense anger.

Legolas looked at Tara, who looked at the ground.

“It is not a request, Tarellethiel,” he repeated. “Come. Now.”

“Father-“ Legolas began.

“I wish to hear nothing from you,” he snapped, holding a hand up to silence him. “You will remain with your patrol and return in the morning as expected. In the meantime, I saw traces of recent orc activity less than two miles east of here. Deal with it.”

His broad shoulders presented themselves to the group as he turned his back and walked away, leading a silent Tara. Coming to a stop next to his magnificent black horse, he gripped her waist and lifted her up onto it, swinging himself up behind her. Not a word was said as they rode back through the dense woods.

On their arrival at the palace, he slid down to the ground and lifted her from the horse, turning the animal over to a stable-hand who had emerged quietly. He walked her inside, not looking at her.

“I will speak with you in the morning,” he said curtly, and strode off.

Her shoulders sagged.

*****

Tara slept fitfully for the remainder of the night.

Thranduil wasn’t present at breakfast, and she knew she was in trouble. He hadn’t missed sharing the meal with her in the time she had been there. She ate alone, picking at her food without much appetite.

“My Lady, the King has ordered your presence in the throne room,” Asira said in her quiet voice as she appeared from nowhere.

Tara turned to her. The maid looked terrified.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes, my Lady,” she answered.

She sighed, pushing herself away from the table. Giving the maid a smile, she left the hall and headed off in the direction of the throne. Each step she took felt heavier and heavier.

As she walked along the winding walkway, she could see Thranduil sitting on his throne, his ice blue eyes stormy as they glared at her. One knee was crossed over the other, his chin resting on one hand. He watched her like a predator as she closed the distance between him, coming to a stop in front of the steps.

One eyebrow arched. “Well?”

She didn’t have an answer to the loaded word.

He rose to his feet. “You sneaked out of the safety of the palace under the cover of darkness,” he said, slowly descending the steps. “You were deceitful and underhanded. You deliberately kept your intentions to yourself.”

She lifted her chin as she tracked his slow approach. “I was not deceitful,” she replied. “I merely decided to go and meet up with a friend.”

His eyes darkened in his anger. “You placed yourself in danger,” he growled. “Those orcs were a little over two miles from your location, yet you did not know of their presence. Thankfully, they did not know of yours, else we would not be having this conversation!”

She swallowed. “I did not know they were close,” she admitted.

“Yet you know of the dangers of my forests,” he said, beginning his intimidating habit of slowly circling her. “And still you chose to sneak off with no guards, no protection, and no approval.”

“I do not need approval!” she snapped. “I am an adult, and I am more than capable to making my own decisions!”

“Are you?” he demanded as he stopped before her. “Are you really?”

“Yes.”

“It would appear otherwise,” he contradicted, the rage evident in his voice. “If those beasts had been aware of you, they would have violated you and then torn you limb from limb! Is _that_ what you call being capable of making your own decisions? Is _that_ what you call being an adult?!”

“I did not know they were there!” she shouted back. “If I had, I would not have been in the woods! I might _look_ like an idiot, but I assure you…I am not!”

He huffed. “Your words say one thing, and your actions say the opposite.” He resumed pacing around her. “I warned you not to go off and join the patrol. If I remember correctly, I specifically told you _not_ to go off and join the patrol. Yet you defied me.”

“I am not a child, and you are not my parent,” she hissed. “I did not _defy._ I made my own decision.”

“A decision which could have resulted in the end of your life!” he shouted. “Do you think for one moment that I wish to have to go through the process of gathering pieces of your severed body from my woods?! Do you not think that collectively, we have been through enough where you are concerned?”

“That sounds as though maybe my presence is not as welcome as you have made it out to be!” she yelled.

He stopped, and stared at her. “Is that what you think?” His tone was quiet and soft, almost hurt. “Is that truly what you think?”

“I do not know what to think,” she retorted.

He inhaled deeply, pulling himself up to his full height and looking down his nose at her. “Are you involved with my son?” he demanded.

Her eyes widened. “What?!”

“I said-“

“I know what you said!” she thundered. “How _dare_ you..!”

“I shall dare,” he shot back. “ _Are you involved with my son?!”_

“No!” she yelled, furious. “Legolas is like a brother to me! How could you even think otherwise? You make me sick!”

“I am left with no other viable possibility,” he told her. “Every time I turn around, you are together. He goes off on patrol, you sneak off to be with him. You eat together. You spend every possible minute together. What else am I to think?”

“That perhaps the friendship we had as children has stood the test of time, and we actually like each other’s company!” Her cheeks were red in anger. “I cannot believe you would think so lowly of your own son. I do not expect you to think of me in any high regard whatsoever, but I expected you to think more of Legolas!”

He took a step back, his eyes wide in astonishment. “For what it is worth, I do hold you in high regard.” His voice had lowered to little more than a whisper. “I respect you and I treasure you. I am astounded at the commitment you had throughout the years towards what you intended to do, as misinformed as it was. I respect you as a warrior and a strong woman who refuses to give up on anything. I treasure the memories that I hold dear of you as a child, and I feel blessed that I can now get to know the woman you have become. Why would you ever think otherwise, my little moonbeam?” His anger had evaporated. “Why?”

“Because you accused me of bedding your son, when that is the last thing I would ever dream of doing,” she replied. Her own voice had lowered, the storm between them having passed.

“I did not accuse. I asked if you were involved,” he said. “There is a big difference, Tara. A very big difference.”

“It came across as being accusatory,” she said, gazing at the stone floor. “I do not like being accused of something I have not done.”

“Neither do I,” he said softly, and her eyes automatically lifted to his. The hurt in the depths cut her to the core.

She closed her eyes, unable to cope with the raw emotion she saw. Without making a sound, Thranduil stepped closer and pulled her into his embrace, resting his head against hers. Her arms automatically went around him.

“I hold you more precious than you would believe,” he whispered. “I have been given a second chance to have you in our lives, and I would see nothing jeopardize that. The danger last night was so close to you, yet you remained unaware. That chills my blood, Tara. We lost you once; I do not intend to lose you again.”

“I am sorry I sneaked out,” she whispered. “I have been so restless lately – I have never spent so long inside, in one place. Never.” She felt him take a breath against her.

“I shall see what I can do to remedy that,” he promised. “Please know that I do not wish for you to feel like a prisoner. I only strive to protect you. You mean too much to Legolas and I for us to lose you again.”

He pulled back, offering her a small smile as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Promise me you will not take risks like you did last night.”

“I promise,” she said.

He nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension left his body. “We should probably go and find my son,” he said. “He appears to be in hiding, no doubt expecting a lecture from me.”

“From you? He must be mistaken,” she replied with a grin. “Lead the way.”


	11. Chapter 11

** CHAPTER ELEVEN **

****

Thranduil followed through on his promise.

He made a point of organising to take Tara horse riding through Mirkwood forest, which she enjoyed immensely. They went out often, sometimes accompanied by guards, and sometimes they went alone.

He observed her frequently whenever they ventured out. She was fascinated with animals of all kinds and descriptions, and was quietly stunned when she turned around once and found herself staring straight into the eyes of the white stag which roamed the woods. He had said nothing, merely smiled to himself as her eyes had widened in amazement.

Other times, she often slid from her horse to pet a friendly rabbit, or to free a bird caught in a spider’s web. She seemed to have a deep inner bond with every creature they came across, and spent many hours sitting playing with a group of young kittens when back in the palace grounds.

Her knowledge of the plants and fruits that grew in the woods was vast, but there were still some species she couldn’t identify, and on those points, she learned from him. He was impressed by how much she knew, and willingly added his knowledge to hers.

Legolas joined them for a ride the day before he was scheduled to travel to the far outskirts of the forest with his patrol. Accompanied by two guards, the group made their way through the woods, enjoying the summer weather and the lush greenery which surrounded them.

“You seem more relaxed these days, Tara,” Legolas commented as they rode along.

She smiled. “I like to be outdoors,” she replied. “I spent much of my life outside, so I am not used to being inside all the time.”

“What made you decide to come back to Mirkwood?” he asked.

Glancing at Thranduil, she saw him tense a little. “I am not sure, to be honest,” she said. “I have spent all my life wanting answers, and I knew the only place I would get them was here. The time seemed right, so I decided to come.”

“What did you do before you came back here?”

“I spent a lot of time travelling,” she answered. “I spent time with the dwarves, with humans, and learned a lot as I went along. It was interesting.”

“But instinct brought you home,” he murmered.

Thranduil’s eye caught hers, and she looked away. She felt bad about lying to her friend, but knew that she couldn’t tell him the true reason she had returned.

“Wait,” the King said suddenly, holding his hand up.

Everybody stopped, waiting to see what had caught his attention.

He slid from his horse, and Legolas quickly followed.

“What is it, father?” he asked.

Thranduil stepped over to a tree trunk, tilting his head and extending a hand towards the bark. “Something dark lurks nearby,” he murmered. “The spiders are growing bolder and advancing.”

The Prince leaned closer, frowning at the markings. “I see that,” he agreed. “I shall arrange for coverage on this side of the forest upon our return. These foul creatures must be dealt with, lest they continue to advance.”

His father straightened up, and turned back to face his horse. His gaze settled on Tara, who was looking upwards into the leafy canopy high above them. Her horse was shifting uneasily beneath her, and she tightened her grip on the reins.

“Tara?” he asked in concern.

“We must move,” she said, looking at him. “And we must move _now._ ”

“My Lady, I think you worry too much,” one of the guards spoke up. “A company covered this area late last night, and there were no spiders reported close by.”

“I think you are wrong,” she replied, gazing back up. “I have spent most of my life in the forests of Middle Earth; I _know_ when I am not alone. I can sense imminent danger.”

“Come,” Thranduil said to Legolas, and climbed onto his mount.

Tara turned her horse away in the direction they had come, and let out a shriek as a pack of giant arachnids crashed out of the trees. Her mount reared up, throwing her from the saddle, and she thumped hard onto the ground. Instinctively rolling away, her horse’s flailing back hooves caught her, and she howled in agony.

Thranduil leapt back down from his animal, torn between going to her and fending off the attack. Legolas and the guards flew into action, leaping forwards with their weapons drawn. Being heavily outnumbered, he had no option but to join them, yelling for her to find cover.

She grunted in pain as she pushed herself to her feet, extracting both her swords in the process. Following Thranduil, she covered his back and slaughtered two spiders in one go as they tried to attack him as he fought others off from the front. Screeching from the blades and the spiders filled the air along with the sharp stench of blood as the group fought ferociously.

“Tara, get away from here!” Thranduil roared over his shoulder.

She ignored him, grimacing in pain as she swiped both swords outwards and decapitated a spider mid-pounce. The wriggling corpse fell to the ground, and she hopped around it to take on another which was close behind.

A furious battle-cry from Legolas reached her ears, and she glanced over to see him firing arrows with remarkable speed, taking out several before they were close enough to do any damage. The guards fought hard, but the royal pair outshone them. Their moves were much more fluent, more skilled, and more deadly.

She squealed in fright as a spider shot along the ground towards her, bringing one sword up over her head and slicing down into the thick skull. Her other weapon swung round in a sideways arc and sliced the front legs off another. Hauling her blade from the head of the one at her feet, she lifted it up at an angle, thrusting it into the soft abdomen of one dropping down from the branches above them.

Sticky blood squirted over her arms and she snarled in anger.

Thranduil moved like lightning, both his weapons hacking and slashing tirelessly.

Catching sight of a particularly large spider heading towards him from an angle, Tara threw herself up onto his back and swiped hard with her left blade, using her right arm to anchor herself to his strong form. The beast dropped in height and sunk its fangs deep into her shoulder.

She screamed.

Thranduil exploded as she loosened her grip and fell to the ground, his anger and frustration coming to the fore as he hacked the spider savagely. He sheathed both weapons and crouched down, lifting her from the grass and bellowing at Legolas as he hurried her away from the carnage.

“We will catch up with you!” his son yelled, leaping onto the back of one of them and plunging his sword through the top of its head.

The King bounded up onto his horse with her in his arms, quickly turning away and galloping off through the trees. She cried out in agony, and he glanced down at her to see her skin had turned ashen grey.

Pulling the horse to a halt a safe enough distance away, he slid off and laid her down on the forest floor, tearing the shoulder of her tunic. He gasped as he saw her wound; two deep punctures left behind from the bite. The surrounding flesh had already darkened with the poison, and she had started to sweat as she fought for breath.

“Tara,” he said, touching a hand to her cheek. “Tara, I must work on this, but you will suffer. Can you hear me, Tara?”

She gulped as she swallowed, managing to nod weakly. Her strength was diminishing rapidly, her vision starting to blur. Her body shivered as the cold crept in, even though the temperature was warm.

“Stay with me,” he urged, placing his hands flat on either side of the bite. Pressing hard, he forced excess blood from her, and she screamed as she twisted and contorted. “I am sorry – I must remove as much as I can,” he told her. “Try to remain still to slow down the spread of the poison.”

Each breath she took made a choking noise, as her lungs refused to work the way they were designed to. The air seemed too heavy and dense, and she struggled.

“Pain,” she rasped. “So much pain…”

“I know, I know,” he said, anguish in his eyes as he glanced from the wound to her. “Try to remain still for me.” He pressed his palm hard against the bite, and she roared as though her life was coming to an end. But he knew that if he didn’t do it, her life _would_ end. “I am sorry, Tara…but I must do this. Breathe with me.”

Her screaming didn’t stop.

He pressed harder, the heat building beneath his hand. Closing his eyes, he began to chant in an ancient tongue, concentrating on the poison he was determined to rid her of. Burning heat passed between the two of them, making her scream harder and louder. Still he chanted, still he pressed harder.

Eventually he broke contact, exhaustion flooding through him as his energy levels plummeted. Tara’s breathing was laboured and painful, and she was semi-conscious.

“Stay with me, my little moonbeam,” he whispered, lifting her into his arms again. “Stay with me.”

Legolas bounded into view, followed by the accompanying guards. Each one of them bore the blood of the spiders they had killed, but none were injured.

“How is she?” he asked, dropping from his horse to stand at his father’s side.

“I have done what I can,” he replied. “But we must get her to the healers, and quickly.”

His son nodded, pulling his mount forward and urging him down onto his forelegs. “Take him,” he told his father. “He is faster; more agile. He will get you home quicker.”

Thranduil settled himself and Tara onto the animal’s back, which automatically rose back to his standing height.

“Arelon will accompany you both,” Legolas told him. “I shall follow on with Detronor.”

The horse took off, taking the King and his precious cargo back to their home, with the allocated guard following close behind.

*****

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as fatigue took over. The surroundings were cool, the atmosphere peaceful, yet he was still in a state of torment.

The hand he held tightly in his was cool to touch, the body it belonged to in a state of deep unconsciousness. Tara had been treated by his most efficient and experienced healers as soon as they had arrived back, and it was down to waiting to see if she pulled through.

A soft breeze gently wafted the gossamer-thin curtain, lifting it slightly as though playing with it.

He didn’t notice.

His heart was ripped apart in several directions, and his mind was rapidly following suit.

He was in love with her.

He knew it was wrong. She was the same age as his son, and he had cared for her when she was little more than a baby, many years before. Her own mother had attempted to end her life through jealousy, and her actions had changed their lives forever.

But the innocent child who he had been so attached to had long gone, and in her place was a beautiful, sensitive, passionate woman. A woman who stirred up desires which had been buried a long time ago, never to be unearthed while he still drew breath.

He had never felt anything as powerful in all his years, anything as strong, anything as fierce and overpowering as what he felt when he thought of her. Legolas would go mad if he knew his father’s feelings, and he knew himself that he shouldn’t have them, but she’d drawn him in and entranced him.

The feeling of sinking into a whirlpool came to mind, and he sighed in the dim light, his ice blue gaze on her still form. She breathed slowly, but deep, strong breaths. The poison in her body had been removed, several forms of elf magic woven over her being, and only time and patience would tell if their work had been successful. The head healer had told him that if he hadn’t treated her primarily in the woods, she would have been dead long before arriving back in the palace.

He sat in silence at her side, not relinquishing his hold on her cold hand.

He needed her.

He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t lose her again.

Shame filled him as he thought about what she would think of him should she discover his inner thoughts and feelings, but he shrugged it off. Making a vow never to tell her, he squared his shoulders as he crossed one leg over the other in a more settled position, preparing to remain at her side for the remainder of the night.

*****

Thranduil turned his head slightly at the sound of soft footsteps behind him. “My son,” he said, knowing instinctively before he even moved that his child was close.

“How is she?” Legolas asked in a quiet voice as he approached the bed.

“There has been no change,” he replied.

A short silence followed.

“Perhaps that is not a bad thing,” Legolas said. “Perhaps her body needs time to heal, and she will sleep until the process is complete.”

His father lifted his eyebrows briefly in acknowledgement.

“Have you been here through the night?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Something flashed in Legolas’s mind, but it was gone again before he could explore it, chased away by the tightening of Tara’s fingers around his father’s.

Thranduil gasped, sitting bolt upright. “Tara?” he said hesitantly. “Tara, can you hear me?”

Legolas held his breath.

Seconds ticked past.

No response.

The King’s head lowered, defeat weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I was so sure she would have shown signs of surviving before now,” he whispered.

“The poison was strong,” his son pointed out. “And the bite delivered a rather large dose. I think she is lucky to have come this far – had you not been there, I dare say she would not have.”

Thranduil didn’t answer, locked in his own anguish.

Legolas touched a gentle hand to his shoulder, before taking his leave.

The ruler of the kingdom remained where he was, wallowing in sorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

** CHAPTER TWELVE **

****

Three days and three nights passed. Exhaustion eventually drove Thranduil to rest in his own chambers, away from the healing rooms and the woman responsible for his erratic heartbeat. The healers swore an oath to inform him immediately if anything changed, but nothing did. Time passed slowly, and Tara remained unconscious as her body fought the battle between life and death.

“Father, I am worried about you,” Legolas commented, watching his parent from the other side of the room.

Thranduil had returned to the healing rooms after a fitful few hours rest. His eyes were burning with tiredness, his head heavy and his thoughts troubled. “I am alright,” he answered.

“I do not think so,” his son replied. “I have seldom seen you like this. Have faith that Tara will survive.”

The King’s gaze automatically lifted to the still form on the bed before him, and his heart broke a little more. She hadn’t moved, and her skin was still far too pale for his liking.

“She is strong,” he continued. “I think she will surprise us all and pull through this.”

“I hope that you are right,” Thranduil murmered. “We have been blessed to have her back with us, and I cannot bear to think of losing her again.”

“The bite was deep, and the poison travelled rapidly. But you acted straight away, and she is alive right now because of your actions,” Legolas told him. “Let nature do the rest. She will make it.”

“I will personally burn out every spider in Middle Earth if she does not,” he vowed. “Those evil, foul beasts have taken enough from these lands; they will not take her and get off lightly.”

The Prince nodded. “I can understand your frustration and anger,” he said softly. “But focus your thoughts on helping her to heal, that she may live to see another spring.” With that, he left the room to carry on with his duties as best he could, given the circumstances.

Thranduil breathed deeply, closing his eyes. His inner being relaxed and he allowed his body to follow suit, his hand cradling one of Tara’s. Allowing peace and serenity to flow through and around him, his senses opened up and he became aware of a faint presence. Thinking it was his son, he ignored it.

The presence grew a little stronger, an almost shy, hesitant feeling coming from it.

His eyes flew open.

He knew the presence didn’t belong to Legolas.

Tara lay as still as a statue, the only movement being from her chest as it rose and fell with her steady breathing.

“Tara,” he whispered softly, leaning closer to her. “Can you hear me, Tara?”

She continued to breathe peacefully.

“Come back, my little moonbeam,” he whispered. “You are needed here.”

Her eyelids fluttered; a tiny movement that he would have missed had he not been scrutinizing her. His heart surged. He tightened his fingers around hers, and felt a miniscule tightening in response.

He swallowed back a sob that would have otherwise broken free. “Come back, Tara,” he whispered again. “Come on, my little moonbeam. Follow my voice.”

Minutes passed.

Her eyelids flickered again, a slightly stronger movement.

“I need my fighting partner back,” he said, his voice still soft and quiet. “I would have non other to practice with. Wake up, Tara.”

She inhaled a deeper breath.

He waited, his heart pounding anxiously, knowing he had to give her time.

Her hand moved again in his, her fingers flexing with more strength and purpose. Again she took a deep breath, and at last, her eyes slowly opened. She blinked a few times, her vision slowly coming into focus. Her mouth opened and she gasped air in.

“Tara…you are not alone, Tara. I am here with you,” he said, leaning closer still.

She moved slowly, turning her head to look at him. Her heart leapt in her chest at the look in his eyes, the nearness of him, and the fact that he was the first thing she saw. “What happened?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You need to drink some water,” he said, frowning as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “Let me help you sit up a little.” He slid his free hand under her shoulders and carefully sat her more upright, letting go of her hand and reaching for the glass which sat on the small table next to the bed.

She gulped the water, and he swiftly pulled it away from her.

“You will vomit if you take too much, too quickly,” he told her, set it back down again. Relaxing his arm, he gently lowered her back down again.

“What happened to me?” she asked again, in a stronger whisper this time.

“Do you remember being out in the woods?” he asked, and she nodded. “You were bitten by a spider. It was a deep bite, and you took in a lot of venom.”

She looked away as she processed this information. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“This is the end of the third day,” he replied. “We have been so worried about you.”

She smiled faintly. “I am sorry to have caused you worry.”

He shook his head with a frown. “Nonsense. There has been someone with you around the clock since we brought you home. You have not been alone even for a moment.”

“Thankyou,” she said. Her eyes drifted back to his. “What did you do to me?”

“I had to do some initial healing to prevent the venom from spreading further,” he replied. “And I know it caused you pain; without it, you would not be here. I needed to stabilise the spreading of the poison before you could make the journey home to the healers.”

“Thankyou for saving my life,” she said quietly.

“Thankyou for saving mine,” he said with a smile. “I did not see the spider that bit you as you tried to shield me from it. You did. I owe you my life.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” she said.

He tilted his head slightly. “You saved the life of the King. That deserves the highest honour and respect.”

“I suggest protecting that life,” she said dryly, shifting to try and get comfortable. “And cease with this respect absurdity. We all fought to defend ourselves and each other out there.”

“Nevertheless-“

“Nevertheless I am famished,” she interrupted. “May I please eat?”

He smiled. “Of course. I shall have something brought to you.” He moved to stand, but she gripped his arm.

“I cannot lie here one more moment,” she said, her tone pleading. “Do not make me stay here…I can get up.”

Ice blue eyes gazed into deep blue ones as he considered her request. “I will compromise,” he decided. “There is a small couch underneath the window over there. I will help you over to it, and you may sit there while you eat.”

She nodded, grimacing in pain as she tried to sit back up, pushing her fists against the bed for leverage. “I feel as though I have been through a war,” she muttered.

“In some aspects, you have,” he told her. He placed a hand under her elbow and assisted her. “Do you feel strong enough to stand?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You lie badly, my little moonbeam,” he said with a soft laugh, lifting her as though she weighted nothing and carrying her over to the couch. Setting her down, he stepped back and studied her. “Better?”

“Much,” she replied.

“Good. I shall arrange for something to eat.” He swiftly crossed the room and opened the door, giving orders to whoever was standing outside, no doubt a guard or one of the healers. He went back over and pulled a chair over, placing it in front of her at an angle. “I have sent word to Legolas; he will be pleased to see you are awake at last.”

She frowned, deep in thought. “I remember fighting the spiders,” she said. “But I cannot recall what happened to me, or what happened afterwards.”

He inhaled deeply. “You were behind me,” he said, his gaze lowering to the floor. “I was fighting, and you leapt up onto my back, stabbing your sword into a spider which had advanced from my left. I had not seen it. It did not die; instead it bit you as it fell to the ground.”

“I cannot remember that,” she said. Her voice sounded far away.

“It is nothing to be concerned about,” he assured her. “It may well be your own way of coping with what happened. You were in a lot of pain, so perhaps it is best that you do not remember everything.”

“Are the guards well?” she asked. “I remember we had two guards with us…Detronor and Arelon?”

“Both are fine, they are healthy and well,” he said. “They have enquired after your wellbeing several times.”

She managed a small smile.

“How bad is the pain?” he asked. “Be truthful with me, Tara.”

“I am struggling with it,” she admitted.

“You are still very pale,” he murmered, holding his hand to her forehead. “I will see to it that you have something to ease your pain.” He rose and left her again, calling on one of the healers and speaking rapidly in his own language. Food arrived soon after and he settled back on his chair, having a bite to eat himself as he encouraged her to eat just a little at a time.

*****

Legolas held his side as he roared with laughter, wiping his tears away with his free hand. “Oh no…that is just _too_ funny,” he said, battling to control his amusement.

Tara drew him a look. “It was not funny at the time.”

He chortled heartily. “Oh Tara…you have not changed, you have only become worse with age!”

She snorted, curling her feet up on the couch beneath her.

Thranduil had finally taken his leave and gone to his chambers for some rest, content with Legolas staying with her. Hating to admit it, she was missing him. For some reason, she felt more protected and content whenever he was nearby, even just in the same room.

But she couldn’t tell his son, or anyone, for that matter.

Thranduil regarded her still as the child he took under his wing many years past, and she felt she would never really be anything more than that to him. Her heart ached for him, her body needed him, and her mind refused to dismiss her feelings. Knowing that she had set herself onto a path headed straight for heartache, she found herself powerless to step off and turn in a different direction.

“I dare say the crazy madman licked his wounds and fixed his ego,” she said dryly, coming back to the topic at hand. “Although I must say; there was never a more deserving being to cross my path.”

“You scared us, you know,” Legolas said quietly, looking at her. “You scared me, and I have never seen my father so petrified.”

Her gaze lowered. The swift change of topic had caught her unawares. “I did not mean to do that,” she said.

“I know,” he said with a nod. “We thought you were going to die…that bite was deep, and the blasted thing managed to transfer a lot of venom into you.”

“The last thing I want to bring you is worry,” she told him. “You and your father have been through enough because of me. I do not wish you to go through any more.”

Legolas shook his head. “No, no, no. Do not think like that,” he stressed. “What we went through after you disappeared was not your fault. Please do not ever think that; please.”

“Your father said a very similar thing to me,” she said, gazing vacantly at something on the wall over his shoulder. “He said almost the exact same words not too long past.”

“And he is correct. You should listen to him more.”

_And stay away from him even more,_ she thought to herself. “I hear everything,” she replied instead. “But what I choose to do with the information remains to be seen, depending on my frame of mind at the time.” She absent-mindedly rubbed at one of the bruises on her lower back, from where her horse had kicked her in panic when she’d been thrown off.

Legolas frowned. “Do you need something for the pain?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “It will pass. It is only the bruising from the horse. How are Arelon and Detronor?”

“They are well,” he told her. “Arelon’s wife said to tell you she will visit when you feel you are up to receiving visitors. I recall she said something about baking you a cake, or something of that ilk.”

“Ooo,” she said with a grin. “Please tell her she is more than welcome to come!”

“You are definitely on the mend,” he observed dryly. “Any mention of anything sweet, and you are almost foaming at the mouth.”

“I like sweet things,” she said with an innocent shrug. “There is nothing wrong with that, my friend.”

“In moderation,” he corrected her. “Too much of a good thing is not necessarily good for you.”

She _pppft_ ’d in disgust. “Then you have not been sampling good things,” she said. “Besides…I am recuperating…sweet things are good for me.”

“That is a ridiculous excuse if ever I heard one,” he muttered. “My father was talking to me earlier today.”

“Congratulations,” she retorted, and he glared at her.

“I do not know if he is going to continue to take you out into the forest,” he said.

“What?!” She leapt out of her comfortable position, wincing immediately as pain shot through her shoulder and down her back.

“He is concerned for your safety, Tara. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you,” he explained. “He is already feeling responsible for this.”

She scowled. “Then I shall just make it my responsibility to drive him absolutely _mad_ until he allows me to go back out again.” She threw herself back against the soft cushions, folding her arms determinedly. “Just watch me.”

Her friend rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.


	13. Chapter 13

** CHAPTER THIRTEEN **

****

Tara recovered from her injuries fairly quickly, and was soon back on her feet, much to Thranduil’s relief and despair. The two states of mind fluctuated rapidly, leaving him dizzy at the speed of the changes.

“I shall call a formal meeting regarding the severity of this issue once the upcoming feast is out of the way,” he said, strolling into the room where years’ worth of documentation was carefully archived. “I see no sense in calling it before then.”

“I agree, my Lord,” the scribe replied, nodding as he walked slightly behind his King. “Our people are eagerly anticipating the feast; there would be no reason to dampen their spirits.”

“My sentiments exactly,” he replied. “Let them enjoy themselves before we must face this darkness.” He turned slightly, frowning as he sensed something. Unsure what it was, he turned back to the scribe. “Have something drawn up in the meantime, some missive of sorts which I can go over when I have the time and send out after the celebrations.”

“Very good, my Lord,” the much smaller elf said with a deep bow. He straightened up, and glanced to the side as a slight noise caught his attention.

He suddenly leapt into the air with an ear-shattering scream, pure terror on his face, as the suit of armour in the corner leapt into the middle of the room with an angry roar, arms raised in battle-mode.

Thranduil pursed his mouth and folded his arms, not batting an eyelid.

The petrified ellon shot out of the room, the sound of his feet echoing along the stone corridor as he ran for his life.

Snorts of laughter sounded from inside the armour as the figure leaned forwards.

“Tara, you really _must_ stop this,” he sighed, crossing the floor and tugging the helmet free. “I know that we are immortal, but you are going to scare that poor man to death with this nonsense.”

She couldn’t answer, as she convulsed in fits of laughter. “Oh Thranduil, that was far too good an opportunity to miss,” she gasped eventually, tears of laughter pouring down her face.

“I am going to lose a perfectly good scribe, and it will be all your fault,” he said, pointing the helmet at her. “Get out of that ridiculous armour before you do yourself an injury or something.”

She wriggled around, and her eyes met his. “I seem to be stuck,” she said. “Again.”

He tapped a foot. “Really?”

“Um..yes.”

“Good,” he retorted. “Perhaps that will teach you not to pull stunts like this on my scribe. You found a way in, now find a way out.” He turned and walked out of the room.

“Thranduil!” she yelled after him. “You cannot leave me like this!”

“Indeed I can, my little moonbeam,” he said, his voice carrying back to her.

She roared in frustration, waddling over to the doorway. A window of opportunity presented itself as Legolas headed in the other direction. “Leggy!” she yelled. “Leggy, help me out of this thing!”

“Do it at your own risk, my son,” Thranduil’s voice called from out of sight. “And I shall have you sent down to the dungeons to scrub the toilets with a handkerchief.”

The Prince looked pityingly at her, shrugging. “I cannot go against my father,” he said apologetically.

“Oh my God I will make your life a misery!” she spat, fighting to free herself from the steel. “Get me out of this thing!”

“Toilets, Legolas, toilets,” his father’s voice floated back, sounding further away.

“My apologies, Tara,” he said. “I cannot.”

“I will stuff those itchy plants that make you come out in a rash all over your bedsheets and in your clothing!” she hissed. “I will put grease on your bowstring! I will give your best tunics to the goats, and they will destroy them!”

His jaw dropped in feigned shock. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am!” she snarled. “Just think what I will do to you as your enemy!”

He gave in to his laughter, allowing it to bubble over. “I am sorry Tara, I cannot,” he said, backing off with his hands up.

“Call yourself my equal?” she roared as he retreated, and she could have sworn she heard Thranduil’s deep chuckle travel along the miles of passageways. Her eyes narrowed as she stomped as best she could along in the other direction, looking for someone to help get her out of the absurd predicament she had wound up in. Spotting two of her friends, she clattered towards them.

Arelon and Calath were deep in conversation, and broke off in surprise at the bundle of armour that approached them.

“Tara..? What on earth..?” gasped Calath, trying not to laugh.

“It matters not,” she whispered frantically. “But help me out of this thing! I appear to be stuck.”

“Not for the first time, from what I have heard since your arrival,” Arelon chuckled, going behind her and unfastening the traps that held it in place. “Rumour has it that you have been in this situation once before, my friend.”

“Yes, only that time, Thranduil helped get me out of it,” she grumbled. “He abandoned me this time.”

Calath doubled over in hysterics. “I am sure you must be driving him mad!” she gasped. “I do not know how he can relax, never knowing what you will be up to next!”

“He cannot,” she replied, climbing out of the armour. “Dammit.” She stumbled, gripping Calath’s arm for support. “This is harder than it was when I was little.”

The armour clattered to the floor as she finally freed herself, kicking her foot free at last.

“Perhaps you must find a different way to scare people,” Arelon suggested with a grin. “Hiding in this thing does not seem to be the right thing for you.”

“I will come up with something,” she muttered, scowling at the steel at her feet.

“Tara, do you have your dress for the feast tomorrow night?” Calath enquired. “Mine arrived this morning.”

She frowned. “No. I do not care what I wear,” she said. “I am more comfortable in clothing such as this.” She gestured to the outfit she had on, which consisted of leggings and a comfortable tunic.

“The King will not allow you to wear such things, especially seeing as this is being organised to celebrate your coming home,” she said. “I wonder if perhaps he has something in mind already for you…”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I do not fancy the idea of being dolled up and preened,” she said. “It is not my style, and never has been. I find such things a waste; I would much prefer to be out hunting orcs or such like.”

Arelon laughed heartily. “That will not be happening tomorrow night, or quite possibly any other night,” he said. “The King values you to be too important to be off charging after orcs!”

“Yes, he does,” Calath agreed with a determined nod. “Especially after what happened recently. I think any time you go out from now on, you will have your own personal legion of guards to keep you safe.”

“Oh good grief,” she said. “I can take care of myself! That spider bite was a first for me. Never in all my years have I fallen victim to an attack in such a way, and it will not be happening again, I can assure you.”

“It will never have the chance to happen again,” her friend said pointedly. “I overheard the King just two days past; he intends to take no chances with your safety.”

“Well, we must be off,” Arelon said with a sigh. “I have to report for guard duty, and my beloved has chores to catch up with.” He smiled as he spoke, sliding his arm around the elleth’s shoulders.

“If we do not see you before, we shall see you tomorrow night,” she smiled, and the couple turned away to go about their business.

Tara watched them go, feeling so alone.

*****

“You look beautiful Tara, do stop fidgeting,” Legolas whispered, tightening his hold on her as they entered the banquet hall.

“Stop squeezing my fingers!” she hissed quietly, as his arm tightened against his body and trapped her fingers. She plastered on a bright smile as elves turned and greeted them as they made their way to the massive dining table.

Thranduil was seated at the top, and his head lifted as the pair wove their way through the crowds. His mouth opened.

Tara looked gorgeous.

The dress he had chosen and sent for her was perfect. It was white and dark blue, the exact same shade as her eyes. Cut with a low scoop neck, her bust was covered with a dazzling white fabric, with a dark blue that tightened in under her breasts and wound under her arms up over her back, lacing up in a corset-style. The skirts were the same dark blue with white inserts, falling to softly whisper against the floor at her feet. On her wrist she wore a blue velvet band with a white rose, and blue and white flowers woven into her hair.

She took his breath away, and he forgot to breathe as he stared at her. His heart hammered in his chest as his fingers gripped the armrests of his seat. Unable to tear his eyes away from her, he swallowed as she came closer, holding onto his son’s arm.

“Father,” Legolas greeted him, bowing slightly as he pulled a seat out for his companion to sit.

“Legolas, Tarellethiel,” he returned. “Both of you look very presentable tonight.”

 _Presentable?!_ He thought. _Where had that come from? Tara looks positively beautiful._

“Thankyou,” she replied, unaware of his mind screaming at him. “I do not feel as uncomfortable as I imagined I would. This dress is more my style than the fancy gowns others are wearing.”

He smiled stiffly. “I know you do not like to wear gowns at all, so I chose carefully so you would have something you felt at ease wearing.”

“And I offer you my gratitude,” she replied, with a genuine smile of her own. She glanced over her shoulder. “It seems that the fun is well underway already.”

Legolas chuckled as he lowered himself to sit beside her. “Some cannot wait to loosen up and relax,” he commented. “It appears that any excuse to partake in the consumption of alcohol is a good excuse.”

Thranduil’s eyes shifted, as he spotted several elves looking appreciatively in Tara’s direction, and his gaze hardened. She didn’t notice, leaning towards Legolas and talking with him about something.

The night rolled on.

Several ellon asked her to dance, and she obliged. Thranduil was becoming more and more sullen. His wine glass thumped down onto the table as he watched one in particular slide his hands down her back towards her rear.

“You are supposed to be protecting her,” he hissed at his son, rising from his seat. “I see I shall have to do your task for you.”

Legolas gaped as his father swiftly left the table and crossed the large dance floor.

“I believe this dance is now mine,” he said, his voice low and menacing, as he cut in and glared at the elf whose hands had finally settled onto her rear, despite her trying to remove them. He grasped her arm, tugging her out of the ellon’s hold and spun her to face him. She gazed up at him as his ice cold stare intimidated the other male, and he backed off.

She rested her left hand on his shoulder, and he took hold of her right, holding it close against his chest as he slid an arm tightly around her waist.

“You are not here to be pawed and touched in an inappropriate manner,” he said, guiding her around the floor in between other couples. “I shall give him a spell in the dungeons for touching you in such ways.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “There is no need,” she replied. “I would have slapped him had he gone too far.”

“He already did,” he growled, tightening his arm around her.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she breathed evenly to try and calm herself. “This is the first I have seen you dance all evening,” she remarked.

His gaze shifted to hers. “Your wellbeing is my top priority,” he replied. “I will not sit to one side and see you uncomfortable.”

She smiled. “Thankyou for your concern,” she said. “I would have been alright, I am sure.” Truth be told, the feel of him holding her felt heavenly.

As for Thranduil, he was having to make a huge effort to remain focused on leading her through the dance. Her soft, warm curves pressed against him, her thighs brushing his as they moved slowly to the melodic music that drifted through the large hall. The scent of her perfume drifted through his senses, clouding his ability to think. As she turned her head slightly, his gaze dropped and he found he had an enticing view of her cleavage.

Swallowing hard, he clenched his teeth and focused on dancing. Wishing the moment would never end, he finally bowed to her as the music ended and led her by the hand back to the table.

Legolas glanced between the pair as his father guided her into her seat. Thoughtful eyes settled on his father, who glared at him, but neither of them spoke. Tara smiled as Calath wandered over and sat down next to her, and the pair began chatting.

Thranduil lifted his wine and resumed his observation of what was happening around him.


	14. Chapter 14

** CHAPTER FOURTEEN **

****

“I see the bond between yourself and Tara is growing in strength,” Legolas casually observed, leaning his hands on the window ledge behind him and crossing one ankle over the other. His gaze rested on his father, seated at his desk.

Ice blue eyes flicked up sharply to meet his. “I do not know what you speak of,” he answered, his tone curt.

His son smirked. “I think you do,” he said. “And I am not alone in what I see. Others are seeing it too. Rumours are aplenty around the realm.”

A bundle of books hit the desk with a thud. “Rumours are nothing but the meddlesome creation of inactive minds,” the King muttered. “Beings with nothing better to do than occupy their dull existence procuring ridiculous and unfounded fantasies.”

“I have no romantic interest in her,” Legolas said softly.

Another glare. “I care not whether you do or you do not,” came the sharp reply. “Your romantic interests are no concern of mine unless they compromise your ability to carry out your duties.”

The Prince lifted one eyebrow. “Father,” he said, his tone quiet.

Thranduil sighed and looked at him.

“Things have changed,” he said. “The past has gone, for good. It is time to turn the page and love again.”

Anger flashed across the blue eyes that held his. “You know nothing,” he snarled.

“I know more than you think,” he replied, pushing himself away from the window. “I see things. I watch and observe things. I see more than you think.”

With that, he padded across the thick rug and left the study, leaving his parent glaring after him.

Was he really that transparent? If Legolas could see the effect Tara had on him, the chances are she could see it too. And if she knew the feelings he had for her, knew the thoughts that filled his mind whenever he saw her, or knew what he wanted to do to her, she would pack up and leave as quickly as she had arrived.

Frowning to himself, he pursed his mouth as he continued to sort through the piles of paperwork that had been demanding his attention for days. Trying to organise a skilled approach to eliminating the spiders that inhabited the woods once and for all should have taken all his attention, but he found his focus continually wandering.

Thoughts of Tara filled his mind.

He wondered what she was doing, where she was, who she was with. Fantasies of holding her, kissing her, undressing her and making love to her steered his concentration away from matters of the realm, matters of safety and survival. His body reacted every time he thought of her, hardening to a painful level as it silently begged for release.

Pushing his lascivious thoughts to the back of his mind, he took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to deal with what had to be done regarding the spiders.

*****

Feeling at a loose end, Tara wandered around the depths of the palace. She had been out feeding the goats and the pigs with Asira, and the two of them had managed to get themselves absolutely filthy in the process. The maid had gone to her room to wash, and Tara had taken a quick bath and changed. With her friend having her chores to catch up with, she decided to go exploring.

Large parts of the palace seemed new to her, even though she had roamed freely all around as a young elfling. The passing of so many years had dulled her memory of different parts, and it felt like she was seeing many things for the first time.

She ran her fingertips along a beautiful tapestry as she passed, one depicting a forest scene with trees, plants, flowers, and the large white stag staring out towards the observer. The beauty and the detail fascinated her, the animal seeming so life-like as it gazed out at her. Further along the passageway was a plain door, and her curiosity piqued as she wandered towards it.

The door was unlocked, and she smiled to herself as she opened it and went inside.

Bright sunlight flooded the room, highlighting a layer of dust.

This room hadn’t been touched in years. A large bed sat against the far away wall, with a smaller one set a little to the side. Bookcases and a desk leaned against the opposite wall.

She frowned slightly as her gaze settled on the dark blue curtains that hung from either side of the window. They seemed familiar, and the longer she stared at them, the stronger the feeling became.

Her mouth opened in a quiet gasp as she realised – this was the room she shared with her mother, centuries ago. This was where Thranduil had allowed them to sleep when she was just a child.

Soft, silent steps carried her across the room, and she ran her hand across the blanket that covered the bed her mother had slept in. Memories rushed back to her, her parent sitting in the middle of the bed with her, reading to her in the candle light. Choosing dresses each morning. Waking up to the sound of the wind whistling through the miniscule gap in the window. Watching the snow falling silently onto the trees outside.

She could almost smell her mother’s perfume as she stood there, could almost feel the gentle swish of her hair against her as she passed her.

Breathing deeply, she crossed over to the window and gazed out, her arms folded over her abdomen. Hot tears burned her eyes as she stared out, seeing nothing. A lump appeared in her throat, and she swallowed it away in determination. She had no time for memories, false depictions of what she had thought her childhood had been. Her life had been destroyed not by the six feet five blond God who ruled the kingdom as she had been led to believe all her life, but by her parent. Her misplaced fury had driven her back to the only place where she had ever been truly happy, and everything she knew had been turned upside down in the process.

Including her feelings concerning Thranduil.

The turmoil inside her threatened to overshadow everything as she battled from one day to the next, determined not to give in to the feelings he had unknowingly awoken in her. She only had to hear his deep velvet voice and her bones turned to liquid. The touch of his hand or the brush of his body against hers as they practiced her fighting skills was enough to send her out of her mind, and she had been cutting back on her sessions recently.

Turning from the window with a sigh of defeat, she wandered around the room, opening closets and drawers for the sheer point of doing something. Her brows came down in a frown as she caught sight of the edge of a book slid to the back of one of the drawers, and she leaned down to tug it free as it had been caught in the wood at the back.

She gazed down at the book, her thumbs rubbing slowly over the cover.

Her mother’s diary.

Her nosey nature spiked awake, and she opened it to the first page.

*****

Thranduil raised his eyes to the roof above him, silently praying for the patience needed to remain seated and not leap to his feet to behead the imbecile who was arguing some insane point. His fingers drummed against the table in a rapid, irritated rhythm as he clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on what was being said.

“We have discussed this in times past,” he ground out, as the Lord paused for breath. “And my answer remains the same. It will not change.”

“But my Lord-“ he began.

“No!” he cut him off, impatiently. “That is the end of the matter. I will not discuss it further. Now – how far are we on the plans for sweeping the east side of the forest?”

A few mumbled replies drifted along the table towards him, and his irritation rose.

“So an actual fact is that we are no further advanced in our plans than we were two days ago?” he demanded. “I ask myself what you have all been doing with your time, as it clearly has not been organising strategies as I had ordered.”

More mumbled comments.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation, before rising to his feet and taking a deep breath to begin his rant of annoyance.

*****

Tara sank down onto the floor, engrossed in what she was reading. She pulled her knees up, resting the diary against her thighs.

Hot tears burned her eyes and she fought to keep them at bay.

Facts and truths were leaping off the pages at her, hitting her like a solid blow from a steel sword as she absorbed what she was learning. Her heart ached, and pain pounded through her skull. A deep feeling of nausea rolled through her stomach, but she ignored it and pressed on, determined to discover more.

She eventually leaned back, her head against the wall behind her, as her heart cried out in pain and anguish.

She needed Thranduil.

*****

An incessant wave of noise surrounded Thranduil.

He had retaken his seat, and was leaning his elbows on the table, his hands against his forehead. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and closed everything out around him, vexed to the point he was ready to explode in anger.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt a faint presence.

He knew who it belonged to. He had felt it once before, as Tara had lay in the healing rooms fighting for her life.

His eyes flew open.

She needed him.

“Enough,” he announced sharply, getting to his feet once more. “I have heard enough. I will not listen to any more of this absurd nonsense. Fix this, and fix it fast.” He stormed out of the room, which had fallen into a stunned silence.

He stopped in the hallway, his head turning as he tried to home in on the presence he had felt. Weak and hesitant, she obviously was unaware of it and how to control it, and he made a stronger effort to focus on it, knowing that she couldn’t strengthen her distress call. She was probably unaware she was even calling for him.

Determined strides took him into the depths of the palace that was seldom used, having been closed off for centuries. His adrenalin rose as he realised he was going in the direction of the room that he had given to Tara and her mother many years ago, and she was most likely in there. Knowing that whatever reason she had for being there was the source of her anguish, he hurried his steps.

He stopped as he entered the room, his hand still on the door handle.

Tara sat against the wall, her knees pulled up before her, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. Her chest heaved as she sobbed, and her pain cut through him like the sharpest knife. An open book lay on the floor at her side.

He closed the door and swiftly crossed the room, dropping to his knees beside her and hauling her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and cried like her heart was breaking. He knew she was too upset to talk, so he simply held her as tightly as he could, murmering soft words of comfort and stroking her back and her hair. Her body trembled violently as her grief tore her apart, and he closed his eyes as he silently passed strength through his body into hers.

Time passed, and she cried like she would never stop.

*****

Thranduil sat motionless, still holding Tara. Her tears had eventually slowed down and ceased, and she had fallen into silence. Holding her in his arms strengthened his ability to connect with her, and he picked up so much pain and hurt as he held her.

Her head rested on his shoulder, with his leaning against hers, his hands still leisurely stroking up and down her back.

“I found my mother’s diary,” she whispered eventually, after what seemed like an eternal silence.

He frowned. “This room was supposed to have been cleared out and sealed off,” he said, his voice quiet. “No-one has been in here since the day you disappeared.”

She sniffed. “It was in one of the drawers, caught up at the back,” she said.

A few minutes passed.

“And you have read it,” he said.

“Yes.”

He sighed softly, tilting his head to rest his cheek on the top of her hair.

“She was not my mother.”

Her words turned his blood to ice. “What?” He sat upright, gazing down at her with a frown of confusion.

Dark blue eyes stared up at him. “She was not my mother,” she repeated.

“I do not understand,” he said, seriously confused.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” she said. “My father took me in, and married Caladwen. I was only a newborn.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against his shoulder. “She wrote about having to take care of _the bastard child_ several times in her diary.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“She hated me,” she whispered. “It is very clear in her writing. She never wanted me, and when my father died, she was stuck with me.”

“I am sorry, my little moonbeam,” he said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There have been so many lies, such treachery throughout your life. This seems so unfair to discover your parentage has also been untruths.”

“I do not know who I am,” she whispered brokenly, as her tears started to fall again. “I do not know where I came from, or what my purpose in life is any more. Everything is lost to me.”

“Do not think like that,” he said. “You will make your own place in this life, and you have all the time in the world to do it. Each day you are discovering more and more about yourself, and you have to build on that. What has happened in the past cannot be changed; you must try to move forwards.”

“Forwards from what?” she sobbed. “Nothing is true anymore; every single thing is false.”

_What I feel for you is not false. It is the truest feeling I have ever experienced and suffered for._ “You can move on from this, Tara,” he said, ignoring the pounding of his heart. “Your inner strength and the warrior who lives inside you will bring you through this, I promise.”

She shook her head, snuggling even closer to him. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered, and for a second, he was back in time, holding the small child who had always come to him in times of distress. He remembered back to whenever Caladwen had scolded her or punished her for something, she would run away and find him, climbing up onto his lap no matter where he was or what he was doing. Her little arms had wound around his neck and he had always held her and comforted her.

Often he had carried her around the palace like that as he had gone about his duties. It had infuriated Caladwen, but he had refused to release the tormented child who had clung to him like he was the only safe thing in her existence.

“You must take time to absorb what you have learned,” he answered her. “These last few months have been difficult for you, and this has only added to everything. You need time.”

“Perhaps I do not have the amount of time needed,” she whispered, so softly, he had trouble hearing her.

His arms tightened around her. “You have all the time in the world,” he said.


	15. Chapter 15

** CHAPTER FIFTEEN **

****

Tara listened to the rain pounding off the window, her eyes closed. The gentle sound of breathing made a soft noise in the room, and for the first time in hours, she felt relaxed.

Heat radiated from her left side, coming from the solid body sat next to her.

Thranduil sat with one knee over the other, turning the pages of the diary as he read through each one in silence. She was curled up on the couch, her head resting against his arm. Hours had passed, and repeating his actions from when he’d shown her the letter left for him by her mother, he hadn’t left her side. He’d held her while she’d broken her heart. Cradled her as she’d cried herself to sleep. Carried her over to the couch as she’d woken up, tired and sore from sitting half on the floor and half on him for so long.

As before, he hadn’t pushed her. No pressure for questions or answers, no pressing to uncover her thoughts and emotions.

He’d simply stayed with her.

Her eyes opened and she focused on the soft grey fabric that hugged the strong thighs so close in her line of vision, and her mouth went dry. She allowed her gaze to wander, coming to rest of the soft yet undeniably large bulge that rested in between his legs. Tearing her eyes away, she pushed herself into an upright position.

He turned his head and glanced at her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes and no,” she said, after deciding how to answer. “I am confused. Angry. Lost. I am a lot of things right now.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He continued to turn the pages, almost at the end of the diary. “It appears Caladwen had more secrets than anyone,” he murmered.

She shivered, tugging his cloak tighter around her as her gaze swept around the room. He’d wrapped the garment round her as she’d slept in his arms on the floor. “I need to get out of this room,” she murmered, her brows coming down in a frown. “It is not good for me to be in here.”

He inhaled deeply as he reached the end of the final entry, shaking his head as he closed the book. “I agree,” he said. His eyes remained on the cover of the diary. “This is explosive,” he murmered, almost to himself. “Come. We will leave this god-forsaken room and find something to eat.” The book was tossed carelessly onto the drawer unit.

“I am not hungry,” she said as she rose to her feet.

He stared down at her, towering over her as he stood next to her. “It was not a suggestion,” he said. “And you _will_ eat something. You have had nothing all day, and I will not have you falling ill through malnourishment. You are in my care and my protection, and I will ensure that your needs are met.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly at his tone.

He slid an arm through hers. “Come with me,” he said in a softer voice as he led her through the doorway and out into the dark corridor. “We shall go to the kitchens and see what we can find.”

“The cook will have gone home hours ago,” she said.

“And the larder will be fully stocked,” he replied. “So your concerns are pointless.” A cheeky smile accompanied his words.

Rolling her eyes, she fell into step beside him as they walked along.

Soon afterwards, she found herself fighting the urge to giggle as he emerged from the pantry with an armload of food. “Hungry, are you?” she teased.

_Ravenous,_ he thought. “Yes, and you must be too,” he replied, bumping the door closed with his hip. His eyes roamed the interior of the kitchen store. “I do not think it would be a pleasurable experience to eat down here,” he muttered, and strode past her.

She followed with a shrug. “Shall I take some of that?” she offered.

“No,” he said instantly. He stopped dead, turning to face her and she almost bumped into him. “This is one thing we shall be starting on right away,” he said, an angry look in his eyes. “I shall teach you exactly what is proper behaviour for you and what is not, so that you will know the difference.”

She blinked, taken aback.

“A woman carrying part of a man’s burden is _not_ proper behaviour,” he said, his voice more gentle. “It is considered demeaning in our culture for a woman to take some of the load.”

“Oh.”

“Yes… _oh,_ ” he said, turning away and resuming his pace. “There are many things you do not know, but I will rectify that through time. Hiding in suits of armour for the sole benefit of scaring my staff to death is not one of them.”

She laughed softly behind him. “You know I cannot resist such things,” she said. “My wicked streak never left me as I grew older.”

“So I have borne witness to,” he said dryly. “And I dare see I shall see many more examples of such ilk.” He led the way back up the steps and headed towards his chambers.

“We are eating here?” she asked, as he nudged the doors open.

Ice blue eyes met hers. “Are you not comfortable?”

“It is not that, I am comfortable wherever you are,” she replied. “I just assumed you would want to eat in the banquet hall.”

“A huge, empty hall, which offers neither comfort, nor warmth,” he said, holding the door open with his elbow. “I personally think that right now you need company, and somewhere receptive, as opposed to a large, draughty hall.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, closing the door behind her.

“There is a bottle of wine over on the table next to the balcony,” he told her.

She went to retrieve it, bringing it back through to the impressive lounge area with two glasses. Uncorking it, she filled them, and set one towards him on the round table. He set the food out, and gestured for her to sit as he pulled her chair out.

“It is deemed disrespectful for a male to sit before a female,” he explained as he took his seat. “The exception is myself; should I be at a formal gathering I would be the first to sit. Otherwise, it is the female who sits first.”

“Why?” she asked, taking the sandwich he held out to her.

“It is simply our custom,” he replied. “And it has been for thousands and thousands of years. As is the practice of a household which does not have servants for the wife to serve the husband his food before her own.”

She snorted softly.

He smiled. “You will discover this when you have a husband,” he said.

“I shall not be having one,” she said.

“You do not know what the future holds,” he replied, refusing to look at her. His teeth clenched.

“I do not know what the past held, or why, but I will make a point of choosing my options carefully in the future,” she said. “That is one aspect I _will_ have control over.”

“You will marry,” he said confidently.

She took a sip of her wine. “Do you wish to place a wager?” she challenged. “Bearing in mind I am at the stage in my life where I trust almost no-one?”

His eyes lifted to hers, and she saw a faint flash of something in the ice blue, but it was gone too quickly for her to work out what it was. “You will marry,” he repeated softly. “I know this as surely as I know my own position in this realm.”

“Why did you come to that room?” she asked suddenly. “I told no other where I was going, as I did not know myself. I simply went exploring, like I did when I was a child.”

He took a deep breath. “I heard your cry for help,” he said after a slight pause.

“I did not cry for help,” she said with a frown.

He looked at her. “Yes, you did. You are not aware of it, but your soul cried out for help. And I heard it. I knew where you were.”

She chewed her sandwich slowly, contemplating his answer. “I have never been aware of this,” she murmered.

“You have never been taught how to develop it,” he told her. “The dwarves who helped raise you would know nothing of it, as they do not have the same gift. It is something only elves carry. It is unique to our kind.”

“Can it be used for communication?” she asked.

“Yes. Lady Galadriel communicates regularly using a similar method,” he said, drinking his wine. “Obviously her gift has been refined and honed to a perfect talent, but it is what she uses as she seldom leaves her homeland.”

“And she can speak to anyone she chooses?”

“If they are open to communication,” he replied. “Why? Do you seek to speak with her?”

“No,” she said hastily. “I have heard Lady Galadriel knows more about the future than the gods themselves, and I have no wish to know what lies ahead for me. I only wish answers for the past.”

“Would they do any good?” Serious eyes held hers across the table.

“I do not know, truthfully,” she admitted. “Perhaps I would find peace, closure of some sort.”

“Do you not wonder if maybe you would bring yourself even more heartache?” he asked as he ran his fingertip around the lip of the glass.

Her eyes followed the movement. “Maybe,” she said. “But I do not think I can be any more lost and alone than I am right now, and that is the truth.”

“You are not alone, my little moonbeam,” he said with a gentle shake of his head. “You never were. You have no idea how often through the years I wondered if you were still alive, prayed that you were, and wondered where you were.”

“It is a pity my soul did not cry out over those times,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice.

“It may have done, had you not been driven by darkness and hatred,” he said. “And I do not mean that in an insulting, judgemental way. I mean it in the way that your thoughts and emotions were tainted and clouded because of what you had been led to believe. Perhaps that is what Mithrandir meant when he told you to follow your heart to the truth.”

She gazed at him for a few moments, before bringing herself back to the present. “Who knows?” she sighed. “I think the old bugger knew more than he was letting on.”

He grinned. “You sounded just like Lord Dain when you said that,” he remarked. “Your accents are very similar.”

“I grew up not far from where he was born,” she said.

“Is there anything you think I could do to help you through what you have learned recently?” he asked.

_Take me in your arms, make love to me, and love me forever,_ she thought. “No.”

“The offer is open should you think of something,” he told her.

“Thankyou,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle.

By time the stars had appeared in the black velvet sky, she had consumed a lot of alcohol. Thranduil felt more than just a little fuzzy, but Tara was drunk.

But still perfect in his eyes.

She was in the middle of telling him a story, and stopped speaking as laughter overtook her. They had retreated to the couch, taking their wine with them. She leaned forward, placing her hand on his thigh as she laughed hard, trying to breathe and continue her story.

He couldn’t wipe his own grin from his face. Or the heat from her hand burning through the trousers he wore. Or the instant arousal that shot through him at the intimate contact.

“I think it would be best if you stayed here this night,” he mused, setting his glass to one side. “I do not think you would be able to walk to your own quarters, and I do not wish you to bring yourself to any harm stumbling around in the dark.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, pushing herself up from the couch. “I can walk perfectly fine.” She wobbled a little, but regained her balance with a frown of concentration.

The look on her face made him laugh. “Come on, my little moonbeam, time for bed,” he said, sweeping her into his arms. He carried her across the floor and lay her down in the middle of his large bed, pulling the blanket up over her. His hand tenderly touched her hair. “Try to get some sleep,” he said softly, all humour gone from his eyes.

She gazed up at him, serious, and he thought she was going to say something. But she didn’t. She eventually closed her eyes and snuggled into a comfier position with a deep sigh.

And fell asleep.

He settled on the couch for the remainder of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

** CHAPTER SIXTEEN **

****

With a deep grunt that came from her toes, Tara pushed hard against the guard, knocking him off-balance and sending him crashing to the floor. Stepping around him, she eyed him challengingly to get to his feet and continue.

“Very good,” a deep voice said, and she looked up to see Thranduil standing just inside the room. “You have improved.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Thankyou,” she said.

The guard scrambled up from the floor and bowed to her, turning to bow to his King as he left the room.

Thranduil followed him with his eyes, then turned back to her. “You have not practiced with me recently,” he commented.

“You have been busy,” she replied, lifting a towel from the shelf and drying her face and neck with it.

His eyes tracked her movements. “I am never too busy to train with you,” he told her.

She smiled. “One of the guards said you were in a council meeting, so I did not disturb you,” she said. She lowered herself to the floor and tugged her boots off, flexing her toes. “That feels _so_ much better.”

“You have not practiced with me as much recently,” he observed. “Have I offended you? Or hurt you during training?”

“What? No, not at all,” she replied hastily, a faint pink blush on her cheeks. “No, do not think that. If you are doing other things, I just find someone else to train with. I do not wish to interrupt you from what you do.”

How could she tell him that whenever they came into physical contact, her body screamed in submission? That she craved nothing more than for him to completely control and dominate her body until she screamed with passion? That she yearned to feel his naked flesh hot against hers, his mouth on hers, and his hardness deep inside her?

She couldn’t.

“How is your shoulder holding up during combat?” he inquired. “The healers tell me that outwardly it has healed, but is the pain still there?”

“Sometimes,” she said, getting to her feet and stretching her legs. “But only when I move certain ways, or do certain movements. I try to be careful so I do not aggravate it any more than necessary.”

He nodded his approval. “Good,” he said. “Will you walk with me?”

She nodded, padding barefoot after him, sensing a change in his demeanour. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” he answered over his shoulder. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“You seem…different,” she said.

He clenched his teeth. He couldn’t tell her that he lay awake night after night, imagining her naked body in his arms, her legs around his waist as he thrust into her. Or that when he did sleep, he dreamed of soft, sweet kisses and gentle caresses. Or that the first thing on his mind when he awoke was being in the same room as her, hearing her melodic voice, seeing her dark blue eyes.

And he especially couldn’t tell her that he wished nothing more than to personally gut whichever guard she trained with.

“I may be preoccupied with the strategies at hand,” he replied. “We shall be moving out within the next day or two to drive the spiders from our lands completely.”

She stopped, and he turned to her as he sensed it.

“I wish to accompany you,” she said.

“Absolutely not,” he said instantly. “I forbid it. You will not come with us.”

Her face fell. “I have good reason to wish to see their demise,” she pointed out.

“I understand, Tara. But my answer remains the same. I do not want you out in the forest battling those beasts,” he said. He lifted a hand a tucked her hair behind her ear. “You are too important, my little moonbeam. I will not have you put at risk.”

She scowled, making him grin.

“Come. I wish to check on the foal that arrived during the night,” he said, turning away.

“What?” she squeaked. “Why did you not tell me before?”

He laughed as she hurried after him.

*****

Thranduil’s heart was heavy as he led the hunting party deep into the woods. Even though he knew the spiders would be easily defeated in the face of battle and that he and his guards were more than experienced enough to deal with them, he felt a strange sense of melancholy, almost as though he may have seen Tara for the last time.

The feeling unsettled him.

He missed having her at his side, but had not backed down to her plea to ride with them. Having almost lost her only recently to the foul beings, he had no desire to have her in the same predicament again. His mission was to make his forest as safe as possible, upon which she would be able to go riding and exploring again.

His attack plan had been relatively simple compared to the ridiculous ideas his council had come up with. Three parties, split in three directions, reconciling in the south where the spiders were said to be entering his lands. They would be taking out any that they encountered along the way, and if luck was on their side, the final purge would rid Mirkwood of them completely.

“There is activity less than one mile ahead, my Lord,” one of the scouts announced, pulling to a stop as he galloped towards his King. “It appears to be a rather large colony that has settled there.”

“Good,” he replied. “We will approach as planned.”

They continued, picking up the pace a little as they neared the nests.

Without warning, a group of the giant beasts launched themselves from the undergrowth, scaring the wits out of the horses and the hunters alike. Thranduil slid from his horse and whipped his swords out, leaping straight into battle and slaying several at once. His guards followed suit, following the path he was carving through them.

Screeches filled the air as one spider after another was hacked to death, with sticky venom and putrid-smelling blood everywhere. The more they killed, the more appeared to take their place, and at one point, he wondered if they were going to be victorious.

He found himself some distance away from the group as he fought against five particularly aggressive creatures. Two fell simultaneously as he slashed viciously, with a third meeting a rather gruesome death. His anger bled through his weapons as he moved in a blur, and the spiders paid the ultimate price for the suffering Tara had endured.

He faced the final one as the fourth landed in pieces at his feet. It stood rock-still and stared at him, almost daring him to advance. He held his position, crouched and ready to attack. Shouts and roars from behind him filtered through the trees, but he ignored them. The huge body moved as the horrible beast breathed.

He stayed where he was.

It attacked suddenly, leaping at him with a ferocious hiss and a blur of legs and fangs. He leapt towards it and drove one of his swords into the stomach, but the blade didn’t go deep enough to kill it outright. The thing screamed and twisted, lashing out and trying to bite him. It rolled over as it crashed onto the ground, taking him with it and pinning him on his back.

Time stopped.

He stared up at the horrific sight; an evil, distorted creature with venom dripping from the fangs, mouth open ready to bite. The head pulled back and started to dive forwards, twisting grotesquely to one side as an arrow shot through its skull.

Thranduil blinked.

He had brought no archers.

His head flipped round, and he caught sight of a figure in black darting through the branches of the trees.

“Tara!” he roared, and shoved the corpse off him. Fury surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, taking off in the direction the arrow had come from. His chest heaved as he broke into a clearing, looking around.

There was no sign of her.

Cursing fluently in Sindarin, he roared for her at the top of his voice.

Nothing.

A faint whistle reached his ears and he turned back, knowing the sound had come from another arrow.

There she was, crouched down on one knee high up on a tree branch, taking out copious amounts of spiders with skill and accuracy. Her arrows flew straight and with intent, hitting each target dead on and saving the lives of his hunters just when they needed it.

Surging back into the battle, he tried to ignore her presence, knowing that at least she was high up and not involved in the skirmish at ground level.

The battle seemed to go on and on, and his guards were beginning to tire. He flipped round as he heard Tara drop down from the tree, landing on her feet and unsheathing her twin blades. She moved in a blur as she attacked, her weapons slashing through the air bringing nothing but death.

Blood covered her clothing as she fought hard, but he knew that none of it was hers. Her face was set in a mask of cold indifference, showing practically no emotion as she held her own and defended her kind. He acknowledged briefly to himself that she had taken on board what he had been trying to train into her; to fight with her head and not her heart.

He gave the call to advance, his strong voice rising over the racket of the battle. The guards immediately obeyed, pushing forwards and driving what spiders were left further back. More and more dropped in death as they fought, and eventually it seemed like victory would be theirs.

Thranduil frantically whipped around searching for her, panicking when he couldn’t locate her at first. His heart settled a little as he caught sight of her bringing up the rear.

He would deal with her later.

*****

Tara sat on a rock, her elbows resting on her knees as she settled her breathing. Lifting her head, she gazed at the soldiers congregated nearby.

Thranduil completely ignored her, hadn’t given her the time of day or even a glance.

Good.

She was not going to be ordered around, and she wasn’t going to sit back idly as he fought for his life, no matter how good a fighter he was. Her heart had commanded her to follow him, and she had done just that.

And she would do it again.

Her weary limbs protested as she shifted, accepting a flask of water from one of the hunters. Drinking greedily, the liquid was cool as she swallowed, and refreshed her. She handed it back with her thanks, and her eyes caught the King’s.

He glared coldly at her, and turned away again as he conversed with his head guard.

Huffing softly to herself, she told herself that she didn’t care what kind of mood he was in. So he had given her orders to stay in the palace – he wasn’t her father, or her keeper. She wasn’t a slave or a servant who had to take commands and do what she was told. She was her own person, and he wasn’t going to make her decisions for her.

Inside, her heart had broken as he’d left earlier that morning.

She’d watched him lead his team out through the gates, her heart in turmoil as she’d lost sight of him. What if he ended up injured, or didn’t make it back? What if she’d seen him for the last time? How could she cope after him having such an impact on her life and her emotions?

Deciding to take the proverbial bull by the horns, she’d saddled up and ventured after him, knowing roughly where he would be and how far in front. She’d left her horse a safe distance away and done what she did best – took refuge in the trees and waited.

And it had paid off.

The spider which had pinned him to the ground had been so close to ending his life, and she was thankful she’d been close enough to stop it. The rage in his voice as he’d yelled her name had chilled her blood, but she’d pushed her emotions and fear aside and continued to help the group to victory, saving quite a few lives in the process.

“We shall proceed back to the palace in but a few more minutes,” his deep voice said, penetrating her thoughts. “I would like to thank you all for a valiant effort; we have made good progress here this day. Each one of you has made a positive difference in slaying these foul creatures.” His gaze drifted to each and every soldier who stood or sat around him.

Except her.

She bristled.

Did he really have such a low opinion of her actions? Did he not realise that she had saved his life?

She flipped one leg over the other, pursing her mouth in anger. If that was how he wanted to play it, that was fine by her.

He noticed her mood change, and ignored it.


	17. Chapter 17

** CHAPTER SEVENTEEN **

****

“Tara!”

She marched angrily along the hallway, completely ignoring the deep voice that summoned her, fury racing through her veins.

Thranduil hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire ride back, and hadn’t even glanced in her direction. Each step her horse took brought more and more rage to her, and she was quietly seething by the time they arrived back at the palace. Dismounting on their return, she had turned her horse over to one of the stable-hands and put as much distance between her and the King as quickly as possible, not wanting to see him or speak to him.

He could suffer in the same silence she’d been subjected to.

“Tara!” he called again, and she kept walking. Angry footsteps sounded behind her, and he grabbed her arm, whirling her round to face him. His face was furious. “Do _not_ walk away from me,” he growled.

She wrenched her arm out of his hold. “Do not touch me!” she hissed. “Leave me alone!”

“You disobeyed a direct order, _again,_ ” he snarled. “You have a serious problem when it comes to taking orders and following commands!”

“That is because I do not _obey_ anyone,” she snapped. “I am not a maid who you can order around like you own me!”

His eyes widened in astonishment. “Be careful how to address me,” he warned. “Remember that we may be friends, but I am still your King, and you will do as I command, whether you like it or not!”

“At this moment in time, you are _not_ my friend, you are nothing to me,” she shot back. “A friend would not completely ignore someone who had gone out of their way to help in a battle!”

“A friend would have listened to advice when it is given in their best interests!” he shouted, losing his cool. “You deliberately placed yourself in a dangerous situation which I was trying to shield you from! Do you even remember what happened the last time you faced a spider attack? Or have you forgotten so quickly? You almost died!”

“Maybe I should have!” she yelled, shoving him hard so he took a step back from her. “Then you would not have the trouble of having to put up with me!”

“Do not speak such nonsense!” he hissed angrily. “Listen to yourself!”

“I do not wish to listen to you, that is for certain!” she ranted. “I wish to be as far away from you as possible!” Her temper flooded through her body, closing off all rational thought.

A flash of hurt flickered in his eyes. “What have I done to make turn you against me?”

“You have turned me into my fucking mother!” she screamed, finally releasing her tension and heartache. “I have become her, and it is all because of _you!_ ”

A distressed look settled on his face. “What have I done to you?” he whispered, in shock over her accusation.

She started to step back, creating a distance between them. “You made me fall in love with you,” she whispered back. “And I hate you for that!” Her voice rose in anger. Turning at speed, she sprinted away from him as fast as she could, deaf to his shouts. She rounded the corner and flew up the stone steps, hurtling along the passageway towards her chambers.

Strong arms gripped her and spun her to the right, elbowing the doors open in the process. She found herself in Thranduil’s chambers, her chest heaving as she panted in anger as she turned to face him.

She didn’t have the chance to say anything, as his mouth crashed down onto hers, silencing her as he forced her lips open and thrust his tongue inside.

Passion _exploded_ between them.

He crushed her body tightly against his, tearing at the bodice of her tunic as her hands tore his open. Her palms flattened against his chest, the heat radiating from him burning her hands. Twisting her head from one side to the other, she took everything he had to give from his kiss. Her leg lifted and curved around the back of his legs as she pushed closer to him, grinding herself against the growing hardness.

He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist, thrusting his hips against her as he pinned her against the back of the door. Her head leaned back against the wood as he tore his mouth from hers, panting hard as he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, sucking hard enough to bruise her. Her body twisted, caught between his and the door as she cried out in pleasure, lust flowing through her with the power of a tidal wave. Lifting her hands from his broad shoulders, she wound them through the lengths of his long hair, gripping him hard.

The fabric of her tunic tore further as he gripped the cloth and ripped it, exposing her upper body to him. Warm lips kissed their way hungrily downwards, his hand cupping one breast as he took her nipple in his mouth.

She howled at the sensation, her hips writhing impatiently against him as his free hand gripped her backside in a firm grip. She yanked at his clothing, pushing his tunic down his arms and allowing her hands to roam over his body.

He turned his attention to her other breast, her whimpers and cries fuelling his lust for her. The need to be buried deep inside her took over everything, and clouded his rational thought. As he slid her down to stand on her feet, his fingers delved inside her leggings, pushing them down. She kicked them free, finally managing to rid him of his tunic and dropping it on the floor behind him. She gasped and panted against his mouth as he kissed her, large hands wandering over the bare skin of her back. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her nipples hard in her highly aroused state. The world around her shifted, then she realised he had turned her and was walking her backwards away from the door.

Frantically tearing at what clothing was left between them, naked skin finally merged against naked skin, the heat blazing between them as she found herself flat on her back on his bed, with his weight and powerful form crushing her into the soft blankets. Her legs automatically parted and he wriggled in between, his hands swiftly touching everywhere he could reach.

His hunger was driving him, and her kisses told him she had the same desperate need. Her mouth devoured his, her tongue battling with his as they rolled over and over across the bed. Small hands swept over the muscles of his arms, across his shoulders, and down his back. Her legs crossed at his waist, the strength in her limbs tugging him closer to where they both needed him to be. Her body writhed and flexed against his, her desire to mate clear through her touch and her actions.

Tearing his mouth from hers and panting hard, he thrust into her with one powerful stroke, gripping her thigh with one hand and her wrists with the other, pinning them to the bed above her head. His teeth clenched and his eyes closed in pure ecstasy as her warm, wet body accepted him and closed tightly around him, and a deep grunt rumbled from somewhere inside him. His mouth crushed hers again, kissing her with ferocious passion that had been building for far too long.

Her heart hammered violently as she moved, meeting each thrust of his hips with her own. He released her hands and she immediately tangled her fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face and deepening the kiss even more. The silken strands caught around her hands and she clenched her fists, refusing to let him go. Cries of passion filled the room, accompanied by laboured breathing and gasps.

The world spun around her and she found herself straddling him, rocking her hips hard as he pounded up into her. One of his arms was tight over her back, the other hand tucked behind her left knee as his fingers dug almost painfully into the flesh. She moved faster, encouraging him to reciprocate, which he dutifully did, everything around her melting into a blur of haziness. Her senses were focused on the god who lay beneath her, invading her body and her heart. The solid muscles under her wandering hands, the silky-soft skin against hers, the hot mouth that possessed hers.

Her entire body felt like it was in flames as she moved against him, grinding her hips down to take him deeper with each thrust. He flipped her over again, driving into her hard. He slid an arm down underneath one of her legs, so her knee was bent over his inner elbow, altering the angle of penetration. His free hand fisted in her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck to him. His mouth trailed hot kisses over her skin, his sharp teeth biting as the passion in him blazed hotter. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, the whooshing of his blood drowning out everything around him. Her body was so hot, so wet, and so tight as she squeezed him, pushing him towards completion at a speed which made him dizzy and disorientated.

Her whimpers changed tone; her body began to tighten even more as he fucked her. Her legs trembled around him, and her back arched up off the bed. Each thrust made her moan, the desperation crystal clear to his ears.

Her breathing shuddered and she started to lose rhythm as she lost control, her body going into convulsions as she screamed. Her insides tightened in an iron grip, flexing rapidly as her orgasm tore through her entire body with an almost violent force. His arms tightened to hold her down as she thrashed under him, pushing into her even harder. Feeling the beginning of his climax tightening at the base of his back, his hips pounded deeper into the clenching wet heat that held him prisoner, and a deep roar echoed as he spurted endlessly into her.

His orgasm rocked on and on, until he eventually collapsed, his arms unable to hold his weight any longer. Rolling onto their sides, they stayed joined tightly together, as he jerked periodically within her. Eyes closed, exhausted, and completely sated, they lay together, totally worn out and unable to move.

*****

Thranduil opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to work out where he was. He took a deep breath, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings.

He was in his own chambers, and darkness had fallen. Surprised that he’d fallen asleep, he turned his head slightly and gazed down at Tara, who was sound asleep in his arms. He smiled, flexing his member which had remained deep inside her. Her body twitched ever so slightly in response, and she sighed softly in her sleep. Content to stay where he was, he closed his eyes again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

By the time he opened his eyes again, daylight was upon them. The room was filled with a dull grey light as rain lashed hard against the windows. He rolled over, instantly aware that he was no longer buried deep between the legs of his lover.

His eyes widened.

He was alone in the bed.

Frowning, he sat up and swung his legs out onto the floor, grabbing his robe and shrugging into it. He rose to his feet and strode over to the bathing area, expecting to see her there.

It was empty.

Turning back, his gaze swept the room. Her clothes were gone. She had gone.

His shoulders sagged, and the breath left his lungs. He hadn’t expected to wake up alone, not after what they’d done to each other. He dragged his hands through his hair, crestfallen. Disappointed. Heartbroken.

She’d said she was in love with him. She’d responded when he’d kissed her, and had encouraged him to take it further. She hadn’t protested or fought him off, and she’d actively and aggressively participated in their heated love-making.

So what had he done wrong?

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He shook his head as he crossed back over towards the bed, and came to a sudden stop.

In the middle of the sheet was a dark red stain.

A stain of dried blood.

She had been a _virgin?_ How could he possibly have missed that? How could he not have known her body had never been taken before?

His thoughts drifted back to the previous night. She’d been consumed with the same lust and passion that he had, and had acted accordingly. She hadn’t flinched as he’d taken her, and the way she’d responded to him would never have made him think she was untouched.

Had the heat of the moment and the consuming desire and desperation overpowered everything? Had she been scared to admit that she hadn’t been to bed with anyone before? Was she ashamed, and was this the reason he had woken to an empty bed?

Endless questions fired through his mind, and he had answers to none of them. Anguish poured through him as he stripped the sheets from the bed, rolling them into a ball and tossing them into the closet. Dragging a fresh set out, he quickly spread them over the bed and pulled the blankets back into place. He knew how the maids gossiped and talked amongst themselves, and he didn’t want Tara being talked about. He was not going to have what they’d done turned into something to be ashamed of.

A quick wash later, he had thrown some clothes on and left his room, heading in the direction of hers.

It was empty.

Despair filled his soul.

She wasn’t in the banquet hall either. None of the guards or servants had seen her since they’d left to fight against the spiders.

His heart beat in a frantic rhythm as he tried to quell the panic rising inside him. Somebody must have seen her, somebody had to know where she was. He searched the entire palace, coming up empty handed. No-one had answers, no-one knew of her whereabouts.

Pounding along a corridor with a purposeful stride, he crashed straight into Legolas, coming from the opposite direction.

“Good morning to you too, father,” he said, stumbling to correct his balance.

“Have you seen Tara?” he demanded, ignoring the greeting.

His son frowned. “No. Why? Where is she?”

Thranduil clenched his jaw. “If I knew that, I would not be asking,” he ground out.

Legolas shrugged. “I have not seen her since you came back yesterday, screaming and shouting at one another.”

The King sighed, leaning his head back and gazing at the roof above them. The sound of the rain against a window filtered through an open door, and his gaze drifted into the empty space. Surely she hadn’t gone out..?

Barging past a confused Legolas, he marched down the steps and hurried out of the palace. Rain lashed down in sheets as he crossed over to the stables.

One of the horses was soaked to the skin.

“Where is Lady Tara?” he demanded, turning to one of the stable hands.

“I have not seen her, my Lord,” the elf replied. “The horse returned alone not long past.”

“What?!” he thundered.

The ellon shrunk back from him in fear.

“Did she leave on this animal?” He advanced on the trembling stable hand, who nodded.

“Yes, my Lord,” he whimpered. “She left before dawn.”

Ice blue eyes glared in rage. “Prepare my elk,” he ordered. “At once!”

The elf scuttled off to do his King’s bidding, and the beast was soon led over to him. Swinging himself up onto the animal, he turned him and left the grounds without another word.


	18. Chapter 18

** CHAPTER EIGHTEEN **

****

The elk’s hooves thundered along the sodden ground, never missing a step as he leapt skilfully over bushes, boulders, and fallen trees. The lashing rain didn’t hinder him as he bounded over the river that cut through the heart of the forest, landing perfectly on the other banking and continuing onwards.

On his back, Thranduil fought an ever-rising tidal wave of panic.

Tara was too far away for him to sense her, but so far he had been tracking her. The downpour was making it more difficult with each mile they covered, and he was close to losing her trail completely. Determined not to give up, he pushed his mount harder.

His heart almost stopped as he suddenly became aware of a presence; a very faint one, but still a presence. Knowing it was Tara, he slowed the elk to a stop, allowing him to rest and catch his breath. He closed his eyes and focused, homing in and responding silently to her.

The feeling changed, and turned to one of fear and panic.

His eyes flew open. She had felt him, and it had scared her. Cursing softly, he urged the elk onwards again, knowing he had to catch up with her and fast before she disappeared. Water dripped from the leaves around him as he made his way through the dense undergrowth, away from the path that he thought she would have stayed on, and then it hit him exactly where she was.

The huge animal trotted a little faster, and they soon approached a bank of trees balanced on the crest of a steep hillside.

He slid down to the ground, releasing his hold on the reins and stepping away from the elk. Pushing back branches, he stepped over puddles and mounds of thick mud as Tara came into view.

Her head shot up, panic in her blue eyes. “Stay away from me,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No. I will not,” he responded. “I will not leave you out here.”

Her gaze lowered again. “It is where I wish to be. Leave me alone.” She sat on the ground with her back pressed against a tree, her knees drawn up in front of her. Water cascaded down her, but she didn’t seem to care.

He stopped, assessing her frame of mind. Finding her at the spot where she and Caladwen had been attacked by orcs hadn’t really come as a surprise to him. He’d almost suspected himself partway through his journey that he would find her there, but had shrugged off the thought. She was sitting right on the spot where Caladwen had died.

“Tara, you cannot achieve anything here,” he said, his velvet voice creeping into the cracks of her heart. “Nothing can come from you being here.”

She didn’t answer.

“Come home,” he urged softly.

She shook her head. “No. I have no home.”

Pain sliced through him. “How can you say that?”

Her eyes lifted and she glared at him, but he could see the underlying heartache in the deep blue. “I think I have overstayed my welcome in Mirkwood,” she said quietly.

He stepped closer, confusion bringing his brows down in a deep frown. “Why do you say that? Because we spent the night together?”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away.

“Are you _ashamed_ of what we did?” he asked. “Ashamed of me?”

“No,” she said.

“Then why would you say something like that?” he pushed.

She swallowed, and he realised she had been crying, her tears hidden in the rain. “Because I have become my mother,” she whispered. “She fell in love with you, and history has repeated itself.”

He breathed deeply, registering what she had said. “What she felt was not love, Tara. It was an obsession, an urge to fill the empty void in her life from when your father died. It was not love. She mistook it to be that, but it was not.”

She shook her head, not looking at him.

“And never once did I reciprocate her feelings,” he said. “Never once did I encourage her. I never found excuses to be with her. I never sought her when she was not around. I never pursued her.”

He paused, and her eyes shifted to his.

“But I have with you,” he said softly.

He stepped closer, and she shifted nervously.

“I cannot process this,” she said, leaping to her feet and backing away from him. “There is so much in my mind, so much has happened these last few months…I cannot make sense of anything…”

“Let me help you,” he begged, reaching a hand out towards her.

“No. I do not want your pity,” she said, with a trace of anger. “I am not a poor, helpless female who falls at the feet of her King because she cannot control herself or her emo-“

She broke off with a scream of terror as the ground beneath her feet crumbled and gave way, weakened by the pouring rain. Mud and rocks hurtled down the sheer drop as she fell.

Thranduil moved like lightning, leaping forwards and throwing himself onto his stomach on the ground, grabbing her hand as she fell. His fingers clenched around her wrist, her weight tugging him forwards sharply. Her skin was wet, and his grip was loosening.

“Take my other hand!” he roared, swinging his other arm down towards her. “Quickly!”

She kicked in mid-air, as panic and adrenalin coursed through her.

“Tara!” he shouted. “Tara!”

She reached up and grabbed his other arm, her fist clutching at the fabric of his sleeve. He immediately wriggled backwards, dragging her up towards him. The ground continued to crumble under her, breaking away and falling down into the valley far below them. He quickly shifted his grip to grab her elbow, and his other hand moved to slide under her arm.

He grit his teeth and grunted with exertion, and with a mammoth effort managed to drag her back up over the disintegrating edge. Collapsing onto his back with her half on top of him, he closed his eyes and panted hard for breath. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her body against his, absorbing the tremor that shook her from head to toe.

A few moments passed before he dragged himself to his feet, pulling her up with him and hauling her roughly away from the edge. “Do _not_ ever put me through that again!” he yelled furiously. “I cannot live without you, Tara. I love you, dammit!”

She blinked, her eyes wide in astonishment.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice no more than a broken whisper. “I love you so much, I am completely lost. I have never felt anything this strong or powerful in my life, and I have no control over it. I have felt so much guilt over what I feel, because you were once the tiny child who entranced everybody around you, and you were in my care.”

Dark blue eyes gazed up into his.

“But you are no longer that child,” he said, still in a whisper. “You are a grown woman, and one I could not ignore, no matter how hard I tried. You are under my skin; you are in my blood. I cannot help the way I feel about you. You have changed my life, and I cannot go back to the way it was. I need you. I love you, my little moonbeam. I love you so much.”

Tears had gathered in his eyes, and her heart twisted as she took a deep breath. Lifting herself up onto her toes, she touched her mouth to his in a hesitant kiss, unsure of his reaction. His arms immediately went around her as he took control, deepening the contact and holding her tightly against him. Her hands slid up his shoulders and around his neck, and she clung to him like he was the only being in the entire world. The rain continued to lash down around them, but neither noticed, both too caught up in each other to care.

They eventually broke apart, gasping for air, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead as she leaned against him.

“Come home with me,” he pleaded. “Stay with me. I need you.”

“I need you too,” she replied softly. “More than I am willing to admit. I love you.” Her voice cracked slightly.

He tipped her chin up with a gentle touch, brushing his warm mouth over hers once more. “Then come home with me,” he repeated in a whisper.

Troubled eyes searched his, looking for answers to questions she didn’t even have the strength to voice.

“I will help you,” he promised. “I will help you work through all this, and I will help you become one with the strong woman who sleeps within you. Let me do this, Tara. Let me help you. Please.”

She swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I do not know that I would be accepted,” she said quietly. “And I cannot exist hidden away as a dirty secret.”

He tipped her chin up again. “You will not be a secret, and certainly not a dirty one,” he vowed. “I shall be proud to stand at your side, I shall be proud to claim you as mine. Our people will accept you; it is my belief that they already have.”

She frowned in confusion.

He shrugged, pulling one side of his mouth in sheepishly. “If what my son tells me is correct, everyone already suspects we are together.”

He waited, searching her eyes, silently begging her to return with him. To go home with him, where she belonged.

Finally, she nodded slowly. He smiled, dropping a light kiss on her lips as he turned and whistled, bringing the elk obediently through the trees towards them. The huge animal sniffed her, took a few seconds to make up his mind about her, then butted her gently with his nose.

Thranduil chuckled, and moved to lift her up onto his back, before climbing up to sit behind her. One arm slid around her waist and tugged her back into the cradle of his open thighs, and they set off at a slow pace.

*****

Once back in the safety of the palace, Tara left Thranduil and returned to her own quarters, where she prepared a hot bath. He had a few things which required his attention, and so they parted company for a while.

Settling back into the hot water, her cold body slowly started to heat up, and she relaxed. The fragrant oils she’d added filled the air with a floral aroma, the strongest one being lavender. Her eyes drifted closed as she leaned her head back against the stone.

A gentle touch made her jump.

“Relax, my little moonbeam,” a deep voice said, as warm hands massaged her shoulders from behind.

“You scared me,” she said with a laugh.

“I apologise,” he replied. “That was not my intention. I merely wished to be apart from you no longer. My meetings can wait until another time.”

“That is not the way to rule a kingdom,” she murmered contentedly. His hands were working magic on her aching muscles.

“I care not,” he decided, making her laugh again. “This is a much more pleasurable pass-time.” He removed his hands, walking around the bathing pool and lowering himself to sit on the stone steps at the side. Ice blue eyes stared into hers.

She blushed, feeling a little self-conscious, as she sat naked before him.

One eyebrow lifted in amusement as he turned his body so he was facing away slightly and not facing her head on. “Such modesty, particularly after the pleasures of exploring your body last night,” he murmered.

“I am not used to exposing myself in front of another,” she said.

“Which brings a question to mind,” he replied. “Why did you not tell me that you had not been with a lover before?”

Her cheeks burned scarlet.

He touched a finger under her chin and gently turned her head to face him. “I do not mean it in a derogatory way,” he said softly.

“Who says I have not?” she shot back defensively.

“My bedsheet,” he answered without missing a beat. “There was a bloodstain on it this morning.”

“I do not think the opportunity presented itself,” she said after a few moments. “Things happened really fast, and I did not want to throw that in the midst of what was happening.”

“I understand that,” he said. “But I was savage in the way I took you, and that was wrong.”

“You were not,” she said with a frown. “We were both desperate for each other, and I would not change that.”

“Nevertheless, that is not an excuse for me being so brutal,” he said.

She scoffed. “You do speak utter nonsense sometimes, considering you are a King,” she muttered, sliding down under the water to wet her hair. Resurfacing, she used both hands to clear the water from her face, glaring at him. “Would you still have done what we did had you known?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Although it shames me to say so.”

“Good grief,” she grumbled. “Now _you_ sound as though you are ashamed.”

He scowled. “No! I am not. There are ways…” He trailed off with a sigh, pursing his mouth. “There are ways to make the first time more comfortable, more enjoyable,” he said. “I did none of those things. I took you like an animal, and it shames me.”

“Did I complain?” she demanded, rinsing soap from herself. “Well stop that,” she ordered, at the shake of his head. “I enjoyed everything we did, every touch, every kiss.”

He closed his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on the step where he was seated. “Will you stay with me this night?” he asked, opening them again.

Her mouth opened, but she struggled for the right words. “I do not think that I would be able to-“

“No, no, no,” he said, waving a hand and cutting her off. “I am not implying sex, my darling. I want to be with you. I know you will be sore; more sore than you are telling me. Another reason I wish you had told me beforehand.”

She eyed him warily.

“Will you?” he repeated softly. “Will you stay in my chambers with me?”

“No,” she said, and disappointment clouded his eyes. “But you can stay here with me in mine. I am more comfortable here,” she added, with a wicked smile.

He growled, splashing a handful of water over her, and she squealed with laughter. Grabbing the front of his clothing, she hauled him up off the step and into the bathing pool on top of her, soaking him.


	19. Chapter 19

** CHAPTER NINETEEN **

****

Thranduil lay on his right side, his hand propping up his head as he studied Tara. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his bare chest, making her insides clench in desire. She lay on her left side, facing him, and the two of them gazed at each other in peaceful silence.

“Why did you go to where Caladwen took you?” he asked eventually.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I do not know,” she answered. “It just seemed like the right place to go, to try to find myself.”

“And did you?”

She shook her head, rolling onto her back with a sigh. His eyes lowered as her movements caused the blankets to shift slightly, but not enough to bare her to him.

“I do not know where the answers lie,” she murmered as she gazed up at the roof. “Perhaps they do not exist at all, and I am searching for nothing.”

“The answers lie in here,” he said, gently tapping the pad of his index finger against her forehead. “And here.” He tapped her heart. “And they will come to you through time. Everything does.”

“I would really like to know what went on inside her head,” she said. “Why she did what she did.”

He took a deep breath. “My personal belief is that she was sick,” he told her. “Not physically sick. But sick in her mind.”

“She would have to have been,” she said, her eyes meeting his before looking upwards again.

“Have you read the entire diary?” he asked. His fingertip traced down her left arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“No. I lost it when I got to the entry where she had made up her mind that I was a threat to her and her intentions towards you,” she said. She turned her head towards him, settling on the pillow. “I am surprised you even gave me the time of day, bearing in mind the history with her. And neither of us knew at that point that she was not my biological mother.”

“The sins of the parent cannot be transferred to the child,” he replied. “That would be akin to blaming Legolas for something I had done. In the same line, I could not hold her actions against you. You were not the one in the wrong; she was. You were but an innocent child.”

“A terror,” she corrected with a grin.

“Oh, you were an unholy terror,” he laughed. “An utter menace. On the very rare occasion I could not find you, I simply had to follow the trail of carnage and destruction.”

She laughed. “You make me sound like a demon.”

“A sweet, cute demon,” he grinned, a sparkle in his eyes. “It was impossible to be angry with you, you were just so endearing.”

“Apparently not to her,” she sighed.

He turned her head back to him as she turned away. “She does not matter,” he said softly. “You are nothing like her, so maybe it should not be such a surprise to either of us that she did not birth you. Your personality is so different.”

She gazed at him in the flickering light, mesmerised by the beauty of him as he held her gaze.

“What?” he asked curiously.

She smiled. “It just seems so surreal – being here with you, sharing the intimacy we have,” she said. “I never thought it would happen.”

“I have wanted you for so long,” he whispered.

“And I you,” she said. “That is why I pulled back from practicing my fighting with you.”

He smirked, and she playfully pushed his shoulder. His skin felt soft and warm beneath her hand, and she immediately wished she hadn’t touched him as the flames of arousal crept further into her body.

“Now we can practice a different sort of combat,” he said seductively, and she laughed. “Do you really feel that uncomfortable in my chambers?”

“No,” she replied. “I only wanted to see if you would relinquish your luxury and stay here with me.”

He snorted with laughter, pulling her against his chest in a close embrace and kissing the top of her head. “I would travel Middle Earth for you, my little moonbeam,” he said.

She tipped her head back so she could look at him. “Why have you always called me that?” she asked. “You called me it the first time I ever saw you, when I was hiding in Caladwen’s skirts.”

He smiled. “Because in the darkness that surrounded me, the grief that I was in following the passing of Legolas’s mother, you were like a beam of light from the moon, shining and showing me the way,” he told her. “You had a special glow, even back then as a small child. It has only grown and developed as you have reached adulthood.”

Her eyes drifted downwards. “I wonder what Legolas will have to say when he finds out about us,” she murmered. “My guess is he will be displeased.”

“I think not,” he replied, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. “He said something to me some time past which leads me to believe he will not have a negative opinion of us.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me that the past had gone, and it was time to turn the page and love again,” he answered. “He knew. He knew that I had fallen in love with you.”

“And he seemed alright with that?”

“Yes. Why would he not be?”

“Well, I am only a little older than he is, and I thought he would be really protective of his mother’s memory, like not want you to fall in love with someone else,” she said.

“He is a grown ellon, Tara. He is aware that at some point I would possibly have been open to the idea of taking another mate,” he replied. “The fact that you were his childhood friend should make no difference. We love each other, and that is all there is to it.”

“I truly hope he feels that way,” she murmered, closing her eyes and listening to the strong beat of his heart. His hand slowly caressed her back, bringing a deep sense of peace and relaxation to her body.

Within a few minutes, she had fallen asleep.

*****

“My Lord Legolas!”

The Prince turned, hearing Detronor’s voice behind him. The guard hurried towards him.

“My Lord, the King requests your presence in his study,” he panted.

“Thankyou. I will attend immediately,” he replied, lowering his head as the guard bowed in respect. He turned and headed in the direction of the study, wondering what news his father had for him.

Knocking gently on the door which lay ajar, he entered as he heard his deep voice bid him to do so.

“How are you this day, my son?” Thranduil asked, turning away from the window to face him.

“I am well, father,” he answered. “You?”

He smiled. “I am well.”

“Detronor said you wished to see me,” Legolas said.

“Yes…I have something that I do not wish you to hear from others. Others who will no doubt carry gossip and twist and turn the facts into something sordid and shameful,” his father said. “It…it concerns Tara.”

His son smiled slightly. “I have an idea of the news you have,” he said. “You and she…you are together?”

Thranduil’s ice blue eyes widened in surprise.

Legolas’s smile grew wider. “I thought so,” he murmered. “I passed her early this day, and called to her. But she did not hear. She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts. But she looked happy.”

His father went over to the desk, lowering himself into the seat behind it and resting his forearms on the polished wood, his hands clasped together. “Does this present a problem for you?”

The Prince blinked. “Of course not,” he replied. “Why would it?”

“Tara fears your reaction,” he said.

“I do not understand,” he said with a slight frown. “If I remember correctly, I advised you to pursue her, as I could see that you had fallen for her.”

Thranduil nodded. “I have told her this,” he said. “But she worries because she was your friend when you were both young elflings, and there is a significant age gap between us. She is but a heartbeat older than yourself, my son.”

“That makes no difference,” he scoffed. He paused. “Does she love you in the same way that you love her?”

His father smiled. “Yes,” he said softly. “She does. And I never thought I would be blessed to feel the way I do.”

Legolas bowed his head. “Then you both have my blessing,” he said. “If Tara is what makes you happy father, then I am happy for you both. You have lived a life of isolation for far too long, and perhaps she is just what you need. Now you will not have to face the coming years alone and cut off from your feelings.”

The King nodded slowly.

“Can…can I ask how this all came about?” his son asked hesitantly.

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “She followed our group when we went to attack the spiders in the forest,” he said.

Legolas nodded. “I gathered that from the screaming and shouting when you arrived back.”

Thranduil smirked a little. “It came to a head and she admitted her feelings for me.”

“Through anger?” He tipped his head back and laughed. “Somehow that does not surprise me,” he said. “Her temper is notorious.”

“We were both angry,” the King said. “I was angry with her for going against my orders, and she was angry with me for the way I had treated her on our journey back. Things were said…”

“And deeds were done,” his son finished. “I would be able to see the bruise on your neck from Erebor,” he added pointedly.

Thranduil blushed slightly and adjusted the collar of his tunic.

“I shall make a point of finding her and putting her mind at rest,” Legolas promised him with a grin.

“Thankyou,” he said, his eyes showing genuine gratitude. “Her peace of mind is important to me.”

“I know this,” the Prince replied as he turned towards the door. “Oh…and congratulations.”

His father smiled as the door closed, leaving him alone in the room.

*****

Tara screamed as a figure somersaulted over her and landed in front of her.

“Legolas! You shit!” she yelled. “You almost made me die in fright!”

The Prince doubled over, hysterical with laughter. “That, my Lady, is payback from when you sneaked out to join us on patrol,” he said. “Remember? You dropped out of the trees and knocked me off my horse. Revenge is sweet, my friend.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, but the corners of her lips were pulling up in a smile.

“No you do not,” he challenged, dropping to sit cross-legged on the grass at her feet. “And speaking of deep emotions…my father has told me.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She fidgeted on the bench she was sitting on.

“I am happy for you,” he assured her, reaching over and taking her hand. “Honestly, I am. If you make each other happy, and you truly love each other, then I wish you all the love in the world.”

“Thankyou Legolas,” she whispered. She felt tears burning her eyes, and realised just how important her friend’s acceptance was.

“Oh no, do not cry,” he said in alarm as he rose to his feet and sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her. “This is a time you should be happy, not sad.”

“I am not sad,” she said with a small laugh, returning his embrace. “But your approval means so much to me. I did not want to lose you as a friend, ever.”

“And you never shall,” he promised. He pulled back, grinning at her. “I see you have been bitten by the same bug that took a bite from my father,” he joked.

Her face turned red and she punched his shoulder. “I meant it when I said I hate you,” she scowled.

“I am sorry,” he laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “I could not resist.”

“I gather that,” she muttered, absent-mindedly rubbing the bite mark Thranduil had left on her neck. A bite from a sensual mouth that had sucked hard on her flesh, taking her to heights she had only ever dreamed about. Long, silky hair spread over her upper body, teasing and tantalising her skin as he had moved. She crossed one knee over the other, feeling a distinct tingling between her thighs at the memory.

“I do not wish to know the details,” he said dryly, noticing the faraway look that had her eyes had taken.

She snapped back to reality with a scowl, and he laughed heartily.

“I am an adult, as are you both,” he said. “What you do behind closed doors is your business, and concerns no-one else. Remember that.”

“Legolas…I finally feel like I have a meaning in my life now,” she said softly. “I do not know if that makes any sense. It does in my head…like perhaps everything in my life has been leading me towards this, towards your father.”

“Maybe it has. Maybe you should stop analysing and dissecting everything and enjoy where you are in life,” he said. “Over-thinking can completely destroy something, and if this relationship means so much to you, which I think it does, maybe you should not over-think it. Take it for what it is, and be at peace with him.”

She nodded, and he bumped his shoulder against hers.

“I assume that pulling pranks on my father is now out of the question?” he joked.

“Hell no!” she shot back. “Are you mad?!”

He roared with laughter, knowing his friend hadn’t changed in the slightest.


	20. Chapter 20

** CHAPTER TWENTY **

****

Thranduil cursed fluently in Sindarin as he reached for the door handle, only to find it had been removed from the door. His robes swirled around him as he turned, scowling at the guards on either side of the door.

“My son and Lady Tara?” he questioned.

“No-one has been here since we took over our watch, my Lord,” one of them replied, too terrified to look his King in the eyes.

He inhaled deeply. “Find the handle. Fix it. And find those two incorrigible lunatics,” he demanded, shoving the door open and storming inside. He shook his head as he marched over to the window. Another stream of curses left his lips as he gripped the curtains to open them, only to find the heavy drapes had been stitched together. “I cannot take any more of this nonsense,” he muttered.

At least the furniture in the study was still in the same placement as the previous night.

He pulled the chair out from behind the desk, examining it carefully in case it fell apart when he sat on it. Satisfied that it hadn’t been tampered with, he gingerly lowered his weight onto it, and relaxed a little.

“My Lord…the Prince and Lady Tara are heading this way,” one of the guards said, sticking his head around the door. “Do you require their presence?”

“Indeed I do,” he replied. “Send them to me.”

“Yes, my Lord. At once,” he answered, and withdrew his head.

He waited patiently until his lover and his son appeared, both looking as innocent as the day they were born.

“You asked for us, father?” Legolas enquired.

Thranduil glared at him. The halo above his head almost gleamed. “Yes. Replace the door handle immediately,” he said coldly. “And ensure the drapes are fixed accordingly.”

Tara pulled her mouth in as she struggled to maintain her composure, and Legolas bowed and left the room.

The King’s eyes turned to her. “Do not think that because you share a bed with me that you will escape punishment,” he said softly. “You are a menace where my son is concerned.”

She smiled. “I merely choose to encourage his imagination,” she replied.

His eyes roamed her body, a familiar feeling tugging at his loins. “He needs no encouragement,” he stated. “As neither do you. I intended to ask you for your assistance later this morning, should you not be too busy demolishing my palace.” He stood up again, rounding the desk to stand before her. His ice blue eyes stared down into hers, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter awake at the intensity in them.

“What do you require me to do?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

His nostrils flared. “To release this unbearable tension inside of me,” he whispered. “To wrap your legs around me as I take you to a world of sheer and utter bliss and sexual satisfaction.” His head had lowered as he talked, and his soft, warm mouth touched hers in the briefest of touches as he spoke. “To scream in pleasure as I make you come over and over again.”

She gasped against his mouth, as the ache between her thighs grew in intensity.

“But we have no time for that at the moment,” he decided, straightening back up and returning to the other side of the desk. “I do however, require you to help me catalogue the revenue documents that have finally been brought up from the archive store. They are in such a mess, and I think that you would do well in re-organising them correctly.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but his face remained a cool mask of indifference.

“Is something wrong, my darling?” he asked.

“Not a thing,” she replied with a smile. “When would you like me to begin?”

“Whenever you are ready,” he answered. “I have a few things to take care of, after which I shall be free to work alongside you.”

She nodded. “I shall just quickly freshen up, then I will be with you,” she said. “We were out feeding the pigs.” She smiled, turning and leaving the study. The smile turned to a devious grin as she walked away.

Hurrying to her quarters, she quickly washed and chewed the inside of her lip as she considered what clothes to wear.

It was time for payback.

*****

Thranduil’s head lifted from his paperwork as the study door opened, the handle having been replaced with minimal fuss. He smiled as Tara stepped inside, pushing a glass of fresh orange juice across the desk towards her.

She closed the door and lowered herself onto the chair across from him, taking a drink. “Do you have the revenue documents?” she asked. She tugged at the neckline of the wrap-around tunic she wore.

“Yes, however I am afraid there is quite a lot,” he replied, indicating over his shoulder with his thumb. “It has not been sorted through for some months, it seems.”

“That is not a problem,” she said, rising to her feet and going around the desk to retrieve the massive bundle of parchments. “I am sure it will not take me long to organise this.”

His eyes assessed her long legs as she walked back to her seat. Tight black leggings hugged her thighs, highlighting her strong, curved muscles. His gaze drifted higher to the tunic covering her rear, and he clenched his teeth as he imagined burying himself between those legs.

Shaking his head and blinking hard in determination, he focused on what he was doing.

She placed the pile onto the desk, remaining on her feet as she sifted through the first few documents. “I feel that it is warmer today,” she murmered absent-mindedly, her hand again tugging at her neckline.

“Yes, it does seem warm for the time of year,” he replied, glancing at her briefly. “I am afraid this weather will not last for much longer. The changing of the seasons is almost upon us.”

“Mmm,” she said in agreement.

They worked in silence for the next few minutes.

“I cannot work in this heat,” she said eventually, shrugging out of the tunic and dropping it onto the seat behind her.

His eyes widened.

She wore a tight sleeveless black top, which laced up the front. The lacings were loose from just below her bust, allowing the soft fabric to gape at her cleavage.

He swallowed, feeling an instant swelling in his trousers.

She moved around as she placed documents into different piles, arranging them in some sort of method in her mind. Every time she leaned forwards, the top gaped even more.

He clenched his teeth together. She was doing this deliberately to put him off his work. His head lowered as he attempted to concentrate. Ice blue eyes flicked up as she turned her back to him, bending over and setting a small pile of papers onto the floor. Her backside screamed to him to touch it.

Hurriedly dropping his gaze as she turned back, he pretended to be engrossed in the papers before him.

“Excuse me,” she said with a sweet smile, leaning over his shoulder to lift the glass of juice she had set down on the shelf. Her upper body was a heartbeat away from him as she leaned across, her breasts almost touching him.

His hands shot up and grabbed her waist, making her gasp. Lifting her fully onto him, he crushed her mouth down onto his, tugging her forwards by pulling her hair. He forced her lips apart, plunging his tongue deep inside as desire bolted through him. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she returned his kiss, and he knew without a doubt she was as aroused as he was.

This whole thing had been a set-up from the beginning.

Rising to his feet, he sat her on the edge of the desk, tearing his mouth from hers. He panted hard as he gazed down at her, his lips swollen from the intensity of their kiss. He swiftly crossed the floor, locked the door, and strode back to her, shrugging out of his cloak as he moved. It landed on the floor, but he ignored it. One arm swept the entire desk clear and a cascade of documents slid to the floor and scattered in all directions.

Gripping her hips, he yanked her leggings down her legs, throwing them aside and forcing her knees apart as he pushed in between them to cover her mouth with his. A deep moan of pleasure left her as his hands trailed up her legs, pulling her tightly against him as he thrust against her aching core.

“You are a menace,” he whispered against her mouth. “An evil menace, sent to distract me and drive me mad.”

She smiled into the kiss, saying nothing in response. Her arms crossed over his shoulders as her body moved in rhythm with his. He broke the kiss, and placed his palm flat onto her chest, pushing her back to lie on the polished wood. Hooking one foot around the leg of his seat, he dragged it nearer and sat himself on it, holding her legs open.

She whimpered as he leaned in towards her and slowly licked around her opening, his warm tongue tracing delicate patterns on her over-sensitive flesh. Her arousal was evident, and he smiled to himself as he pushed his tongue inside her. Her hips arched up towards him as she gasped, her breathing already changing.

“So sensitive, and so aroused already,” he murmered, sweeping his tongue up over her clitoris.

She yelped and bucked hard against him, and his smile turned to a grin.

“Patience, my little moonbeam,” he whispered. “These things cannot be rushed. They are to be savoured; enjoyed.”

She mumbled something incoherent as he swept little flicks of his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, her nails scratching the surface of the desk. Her head rolled from side to side as she arched her back, the torment of his clever mouth sending her to heights she didn’t know even existed.

“I do not think it will take much to have you screaming, my darling,” he murmered, completely immersed in the taste of her. “You seem almost ready to explode and I have hardly touched you.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped, panting hard. “Oh my fucking God…”

“Such filthy words, from such a lady,” he whispered, altering the pressure of his tongue on her. “Such behaviour should be punished, not rewarded.”

She bit hard on her lower lip, fighting the urge to cry out as her hips moved in a rhythm of their own. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her still as he continued to pleasure her.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmered in between licks. “I could stay here all day.”

She lifted her right leg and settled it over his shoulder, tilting her knee outwards and flexing her toes against the strong muscles in his back. The ceiling blurred above her as waves of pleasure built up inside her body.

A guttural cry echoed around the room as he slid a finger into her, slowly pumping it in and out of her wet depths. Withdrawing it, he pushed two in, twisting and turning them.

“Holy fuck..!” she panted. “Thranduil, I need to come..!”

He withdrew abruptly, lifting his head and rising to his feet as he kicked the chair away. Her eyes opened and she gazed at him, the dark blue clouded with lust. She swallowed as he swiftly undid his trousers and pulled his erection free, gripping it and slowly pumping up and down the solid length.

His eyes never left hers as he reached over and lifted his hunting knife. Placing the sharp blade just above her, he slashed her top open with one deft movement, exposing her completely to him. “Much better,” he whispered. Leaning forwards, he nudged against her as his mouth closed over her left nipple, and she shrieked at the sensation. Her hips immediately tilted up from the desk, eager to feel him inside her. The head of his erection rubbed against her and she bucked hard against him. He slowly rubbed himself against her, circling against her wet flesh without penetrating, his mouth still teasing her breast.

“Thranduil…I need you,” she gasped, gripping handfuls of his hair. “I need you now.”

She pulled hard, lifting his head and gazing into his eyes. He stared into hers as he began to push inside her, watching the colour change darker the deeper he went. Her feet crossed over his backside and she flexed her legs to pull him closer, deeper, and a faint smile flickered over his mouth.

“Are you hungry for me?” he whispered.

“Starved,” she replied.

He smiled at the dazed look in her eyes. She closed them as he began to move within her; slow, deep strokes that sent unbearable pleasure through her. Letting go of his hair, she gripped his upper arms, her fingers clenching into the tensed muscles. His fists were planted on the desk on either side of her as he towered over her, watching every reaction from her.

Slow, smooth thrusts escalated as he began to move faster, his intense gaze holding her prisoner as she opened her eyes and looked up at him, hypnotised by the hold he had on her. Her breathing came in rapid pants as the tension in her body twisted tighter and tighter with each forward drive of his hips.

He leaned his upper body down, his soft, full mouth a hair’s breadth away from hers. “I want you to come for me,” he whispered erotically. “I want you to scream for me…I want to feel your whole body explode for me…”

Her insides automatically flexed tighter around him at his sensual words, her hands gripping harder onto his arms. She lifted her head slightly, desperate for his kiss. A lustful moan left her as he complied, his mouth rubbing sensually over hers as his tongue probed inside. He continued to move inside her, pushing deeper and deeper, pushing her closer to completion.

“Thranduil…I am coming…” she gasped against him. “Oh my God…I cannot take anymore…”

He moved one hand, gently rubbing his thumb across one of her nipples, and she orgasmed with a scream that echoed as she thrashed under him. He gripped her hips with a grunt of satisfaction, his thrusts becoming more powerful as he rode hard into her clenching depths. A long moan rumbled up from his chest as he emptied everything he had into her, and he collapsed onto his elbows, trying to keep his full weight from crushing her.

Her arms and legs tightened around him as she pressed soft kisses to his neck, breathing hard. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he whispered back breathlessly. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It would appear that we may have created more work for ourselves than we started out with.”

She grinned; a gesture which he returned. “It would seem that I am not the only one who can instigate mischief,” she said.

He shook his head in amusement, before pressing his lips to hers once more.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The problem of the spiders continued to grow.  
Thranduil sighed deeply, vexed at the news his guard had delivered. The colony they had slaughtered only recently had been replaced with several more. Hundreds of the putrid beasts were now roaming freely through Mirkwood forest, and steps had to be taken to vanquish them once and for all.   
On top of that, the presence of orc activity had increased, and that was devastating news as far as Tara was concerned. He knew she loved to go out into the woods, but there was no way in Middle Earth he was going to allow her to ride straight into the depths of hell.   
And knowing her the way he did, he knew she would go berserk and probably take off anyway, with or without his approval or protection.  
He tipped his head back, looking for inspiration to come from anywhere. She was a handful, and he knew that. A small smile tugged at his mouth as he went back in his memory to the stubborn, determined elfling who had never been out of hot water. Many a time he had lifted her by the back of her clothing and carried her away from mischief or trouble, and she had squealed and screamed in temper, her little arms and legs kicking and punching in mid-air. She had probably been only just tall enough to reach slightly above his knees at the time; tiny, but a handful nevertheless.  
As an adult, she was just as bad.  
Or worse.  
Her temper as an adult was more ferocious, more explosive, and more difficult to contain and control. She was deeply passionate about everything, be it a hatred towards someone, as he had found out, or a deep love, which he had also experienced. She had no middle ground, no grey area, no half-way mark. With Tara, it was all or nothing.  
He rolled his shoulders to loosen the stiff muscles, and called his guard back in. “Prepare the patrols,” he ordered. “We shall leave by nightfall.”  
*****   
“Tara.”  
Her head lifted, a smile gracing her lips as the deep velvet voice caressed her soul. Thranduil stood a short distance from her, his hands clasped behind his back.  
Her smile dimmed.  
Something was wrong.  
Stepping over the delicate flowers at her feet, she crossed the grass to him. “What is wrong, my love?” she asked.  
He lowered his head and gave her a soft, tender kiss. “I have some news.”  
She waited expectantly.  
“I will be absent from the palace for a few days,” he said.  
“Why?” was her immediate response.  
“There are some things that require my urgent attention,” he answered. “And before you ask,” he continued as she opened her mouth to interrupt. “The answer is no, my darling. You cannot accompany me. You shall stay here until my return.”  
A glimmer of anger flashed over her eyes briefly. “Why can I not be with you?” she asked. “Where are you going?”  
“That is not important,” he told her. “And I know how your devious little mind works, therefore I have arranged for a guard to be with you at all times.”  
Her mouth opened. “You have what?”  
He stared down at her, refusing to allow her dark blue eyes or her temper to change his mind. “My decision has been made,” he stated.  
“When do you depart?”  
“This night,” he said, and her eyes changed.  
“Have a safe journey,” she snapped, storming past him.  
“Tara,” he called after her, but she had already disappeared. His shoulders lowered as he bowed his head. He really hadn’t wanted to leave on bad terms, and knew that she would be fuming until his return. Without a way to vent her anger, she would be explosive when he did come back.  
She remained lost to him for the remainder of the evening, staying clear as he searched and called for her. A heavy sadness filled his heart; he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms before he left.  
But she remained elusive.  
He glanced over his shoulder longingly as he sat astride his elk, the darkness falling over the realm. His heart ached.  
There, high up on the balcony, stood his love.  
Sad eyes met hers across the vast space, and he inhaled deeply as he fought off the pain that slashed through him.   
She didn’t move, just stood with her arms leaning on the stone wall before her, watching him.  
He closed his eyes for a moment, sending a surge of love from his soul to hers. When he opened them again, she had gone, and his heart twisted painfully.  
“Father?” Legolas asked hesitantly, pulling his horse up alongside. “Is everything alright?”  
“Of course,” he replied, his cool persona back in place.  
His son shook his head slightly. “Do you need to go back and speak with her?” he asked gently.  
“No.” Ice blue eyes met his in a cold stare before turning away again, and he urged the elk forwards. His patrol units moved at his back, and they headed out through the gates.  
*****   
Tara was a good actress. And she was devious to a fault.  
The guard who followed her everywhere chatted amicably with her, and she slowly but surely drew him in. Before long, he was relaxed enough to be laughing and joking with her, sharing a bottle of wine. They sat in the comfort of the library, where she held an almost full goblet of wine. The guard was on his third, and hadn’t noticed that she’d only sipped hers.  
She smiled as he rambled on, telling some mundane tale of a hunt he had been on. His words started to slur, he blinked hard to focus, and eventually his head lowered as he fell into a deep state of unconsciousness.  
She grinned, setting her wine down and rising to her feet. Inwardly thanking the knowledge she had of plants and their powers, she swiftly crossed the palace to her chambers, where she changed her clothing and slid her legs into knee high boots. Strapping her bow to her back, she opened the door and peered out.  
The hallway was clear, with only a handful of guards on duty overnight.  
This was going to be far too easy.  
Child’s play, she thought, as she quietly closed the door and crept silently into the darkness of the hallways.  
*****   
The clashing of swords was loud enough to split an average person’s eardrums, as elves and orcs battled furiously against each other. The death toll was steadily rising, with losses on both sides. The stomach-churning stench of blood filled the air, along with screams, angry roars, and painful death cries.   
Tara sat high up in one of the trees, shielded from view as she loaded her bow. Thranduil’s back was to her as he fought for his life and his patrol’s lives, his movements accurate and deadly. The early morning sun flashed on his twin blades as they sliced through the air, slitting throats and hacking off limbs.   
She watched him in silence, tilting her bow and taking aim. Waiting until the moment was right, she let her arrow fly and it sunk into the forehead of an orc who was approaching him. Caught up in the frantic attack around him, he didn’t notice. She changed her angle and fired two in succession, saving the life of a guard who was outnumbered and facing certain death. He glanced up into the trees and caught her eye.   
She lowered her head once, and he gave a slight nod.  
Her secret was safe.  
They were on their second day of battle. Legions upon legions of orcs had surfaced, giving Thranduil and the patrols no respite between attacks. Tara had followed them unseen from one location to the next, taking out as many as she could and maintaining her concealment. Exhaustion was slowly creeping in, but she forced it aside and continued protecting her lover.  
Pulling her bowstring back as her adrenalin level rose, the feather of her arrow tickled her ear as she narrowed her eyes and focused. Thranduil was slowing down, and the huge beast he faced stood a good chance of victory. The arrow flew in a perfectly straight line and thudded deep into the chest.  
The orc crashed to his knees and the King thrust his sword forwards, taking the head clean off with one powerful swipe. He whirled round, his brows down in a deep frown as he scanned the raging battle.   
Tara leaned back, knowing her leafy surroundings would hide her from his scrutiny. Her heart pounded furiously, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her leggings.   
The battle eased, with the remaining orcs falling to their deaths and victory going to the elves. The guards, shattered and injured, gathered themselves together and prepared to move out.  
Tara waited for a while after they had departed, then slid down from her hiding place. She brushed dirt and leaves from her clothing, and adjusted the bow on her back.  
She took two steps forward through the undergrowth when a fist grabbed the back of her tunic, dragging her back again.  
She twisted round to find herself staring into Thranduil’s furious ice blue eyes.  
“Once again, I have given you an order and you have disobeyed and disrespected me,” he said, his voice cold and hard. “Would you care to even attempt to explain why you are here and not under the care of the guard I assigned to you?”  
“Would you believe me if I said I was sleep-walking?” she said, knowing she was in so much trouble, she would probably never see the outside of a dungeon again.  
Rage emitted from him in waves so strong, she felt like reeling away from him.   
“I see no humour in your predicament,” he snarled. “I see a rebellious wretch who is determined to ignore advice given to her!”  
She shook herself free from him. “I have told you before – I do not take orders,” she snapped. “I am a good warrior, a strong fighter. I will not be kept like some pampered dog while you go off and risk your life.”  
“A dog can be trained,” he hissed.  
“And this one can bite!” she spat back.   
He narrowed his eyes. “I am beginning to think that your reason for coming to my realm was perhaps not to end my life, but to end your own!”  
A deathly silence settled between the pair.  
“Father?”  
Both turned to see Legolas, a stunned and horrified look on his face.  
“Tara?” he said, stepping forwards. “What…what…tell me I have misheard...”  
Her eyes shifted back to Thranduil, who shook his head and looked away.  
“You mean to tell me…you came back…so you could end my father’s life?” Legolas gasped. “What…father..?” His blue eyes turned to the King, who refused to meet his eyes.  
His son strode towards them, anger replacing his initial astonishment. He grabbed Tara’s tunic, dragging her closer. “Do you mean to tell me that you came to this realm…not for answers, but to kill my father?!”  
“Legolas…it is not…” She trailed off, not having the answers he was looking for.  
Fury blazed from his eyes, which had in those few seconds, become even more like his parent’s. He pushed her, hard, and she stumbled back a step or two.   
“You disgust me,” he spat. “You make me sick. I cannot believe…I just cannot…”  
“Legolas,” Thranduil said, lifting a hand to try to calm him. “There have been misunderstandings and-“  
“You are telling me?” he roared, furious. “You talk to me of misunderstandings? I do not…this makes no sense…” He was lost for words.  
Tara didn’t know what to say. This was a secret he was never supposed to learn, and he had found out in the worst way possible. “Please listen to me,” she begged, touching a hand to his arm.  
He angrily shrugged her off. “Do not touch me,” he seethed. “You are filth! You are scum! And you!” He rounded on his father. “You take her into your bed, knowing what she had planned to do?! How could you? What were you thinking of, apart from the obvious??”  
“Do not speak to me in such a tone,” Thranduil warned, his own anger still very much alive. “I do not have to explain my actions. But I will have you hear what Tara has to say.”  
“I will hear nothing!” he hissed. “Keep her away from me, lest I avenge her murderous intent myself!” He swung away, storming off through the trees to join the patrol, fury radiating from his steps.  
Tara’s heartbroken eyes lifted to Thranduil’s, but he merely stared at her with an ice cold resolute.   
“You have brought this upon yourself,” he said. “And somehow managed to drive a wedge between myself and my child. I hope you are content with what you have achieved here this day.”  
Her heart fell as he turned away from her, shouldering his way through the undergrowth as he headed after Legolas, disappearing into the forest.   
She had never felt so alone in her life. Even after being fairly solitary for most of her existence, she had felt nothing like this. Having Thranduil in her life had given her a new direction, a new purpose. And now that purpose had walked away from her in anger.  
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she realised she had lost her best friend, her only friend, and the only person she had ever truly loved and had been able to trust.


	22. Chapter 22

** CHAPTER TWENTY TWO **

****

Legolas fumed silently as he rode, his horse’s reins gripped in his fists, seeing nothing as the patrol moved through the woods. His heart thundered in his chest, his breathing carefully controlled as he fought against the betrayal and the hurt that slashed through him relentlessly.

Tara had left a gaping hole in his young life when she had disappeared, and he had never come to terms with losing her. Two of a kind, they’d bonded straight away and shared so many amazing memories. Having her back as an adult had been like the proverbial dream come true, to discover that she had survived and was alive and well. Seeing his father finally happy and contented after centuries of being alone had brought him so much happiness and comfort.

But it had all been a lie.

The elleth who had returned to them had come on a mission, a mission that would have destroyed the Mirkwood realm and every life connected to it. If Thranduil had been slain by her, he would be without his father. The kingdom would be without a ruler, and he was not ready to take on that role. The entire realm would crumble, and everything would fall apart, never to be repaired or rebuilt. Thousands of years of suffering, of loss, and of steady patience and commitment that the King had endured to make his kingdom the success that it was, would be worthless.

Rage burned through him.

His father had been blinded by either lust or obsession, or something…he didn’t know what. Anyone else who’d had the audacity to threaten his life would have been executed without a second thought, yet Tara had managed to escape punishment and was settled in his bed instead.

He ground his teeth together.

Was that her eventual plan? To seduce the King to the point where he was completely unguarded and vulnerable around her, then take his life? To strip him down of every wall he’d constructed around his heart over the centuries, to expose his heart, then tear it out and destroy it?

Nothing made sense.

“Legolas.” Thranduil’s deep voice commanded a response, whether he wanted to give it or not.

He glanced at him as he rode a little to one side, his elk patiently carrying his master to the safety of the palace.

“We have lots to discuss, my son,” he told him.

The Prince looked away, refusing to answer. Too much anger flowed through his blood, and he didn’t trust himself to say anything that wouldn’t open the rift between them even wider.

Thranduil sighed softly. “We will talk upon our return,” he stated.

Again, no response.

He guided the elk out to the side and pulled him to a halt, allowing the company to pass. Tara rode at the back, having not spoken a word to anyone since the confrontation. She had kept herself to herself, not joining them for anything to eat, and preferring to stay isolated from the group.

His heart was torn.

He was angry because she’d gone against his orders, placed herself in danger yet again, and because of the ensuing trouble between himself and Legolas. But he didn’t like the exile she had placed herself into, knowing she only did it when she was severely hurting.

She drew near him as the group advanced.

“Tara.”

She didn’t look at him, and he sighed again.

“Tara…are you well?” he asked, moving the elk to keep pace with her.

Nothing. She stared ahead, with no facial expression.

Irritation surged through him. “You cannot keep this up,” he said. “Closing yourself off from all around you is not the way to cope with this.”

Still nothing.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Have it your way. If you wish to behave like a petulant child, then so be it. Expect to be treated like one.” He pressed his heels into the elk’s flanks and urged him back to the front of the group.

Tara followed him with her eyes, but remained silent. She had quite possibly lost the two most important people in her life, perhaps the _only_ important people in her life, and she needed time to process.

*****

Thranduil’s maid helped him out of his armour, staying respectfully silent as she worked. Having expected Tara to assist him, she had been surprised when the order reached her to present herself to the King.

“Where is my son?” he demanded, taking off the last of the steel protection.

“I do not know of his whereabouts, my Lord,” she replied.

“Where is Lady Tara?”

“I am led to believe that she retired to her own quarters upon arrival, my Lord.”

He huffed to himself. Having one of them throwing childish sulks was bad enough, without both of them doing it. Deciding to tackle Legolas first, he left his rooms and went off in search of him. Tara had been in the wrong by going against his orders, so she could wait.

Finding his child presented more of a problem than he had originally presumed, as he found him after searching high and low, practicing in the training hall.

“I would have thought you had witnessed enough aggressive combat than to return and continue,” he observed. He folded his arms and watched from the doorway.

“I have nothing to say,” Legolas panted, moving fast as he duelled against one of the guards. “There is nothing I wish to discuss.”

Thranduil tilted his head to convey his wish for the guard to exit, which he immediately did.

“I do not appreciate my practice being interrupted!” His son’s angry blue eyes glared at him.

“And I do not appreciate the blatant disrespect you are showing me,” he shot back. “There are matters which need to be talked through, and you will listen to me while we do so.”

He threw his sword to one side in disgust. “I do not know what else there is to talk about,” he said. “Tara wishes you dead, you wish to have your carnal fun with her.”

His father’s head rose slowly, and he fixed him with a cold, hard stare. “You know _nothing,_ ” he hissed dangerously. Slow steps carried him into the room. “You have reached an untrue conclusion, with no facts, no proof, and no witness of those involved. Therefore you have no _right_ to make such assumptions.”

Legolas pulled back a little as he swooped down, stopping an inch from him, anger blazing in his eyes.

He drew back up to his full height. “Tara was told by Caladwen that I had ordered them to leave, and that I wanted nothing to do with the spoiled child. She told her I hated her. She told her that you had spent time with her through a sense of duty, not through friendship. She told her I struck her and threw them both out to die in the harsh winter.”

His son blinked.

“And then met a horrendous death at the hands of the orcs,” he continued. “So tell me, my son…can you really lay blame on her for wanting to avenge the wrong that as far as she was aware, I had inflicted on her young life? To pay me back for taking away her friend, her home, and ultimately, her mother? Can you truly say that her initial hatred of me was unjustified?”

The Prince looked at the floor.

“No. I did not think as such. I showed her the letter that had been left behind, and it destroyed her even more,” he said. “I had no other choice than to pick up the pieces and help her to rebuild herself.”

“And bed her along the way,” Legolas hissed.

“Do not concern yourself with my sexual habits,” Thranduil said coldly. “They are nothing to do with you, and should not even be a focus point of this conversation. I have spent _hundreds_ of years alone, mourning your mother, locked away from my feelings, my desires, from life itself. I stayed true to your mother’s memory until I fell in love with Tara. I have taken no other to my bed, and nor will I. You do not have the right to judge me.” He slowly walked around him. “She found Caladwen’s diary, in the room they occupied while here,” he went on. “Whereupon she discovered the true hatred that she had felt against her. She learned that Caladwen did not birth her, and resented having to look after her once her biological father died.”

Legolas’s eyes widened. “What?”

One eyebrow lifted sarcastically.

“I did not know this,” he murmered.

“No,” Thranduil said. “You did not. Again, her world crashed around her. Everything she has fought for centuries to believe in had been taken away from her. Do you still feel the need to pass judgement?”

He swallowed. “It appears there was a lot of deceit in her past,” he said quietly.

His father stared at him. “I think it best that you think over your opinion of her, when it appears you may have known the child, but you do not know the woman she has become,” he said. “I do. I fell in love with both; the child as a protector and a guardian, and the woman as a lover and a mate. I know her past and her present. Unfortunately, I do not know her future.” He ended with a sigh.

“Are you going to punish her for going against your command?” the Prince asked.

“No,” he answered quietly. “How can I, when the sun rising in the mornings depends on her? When the stars need her to enable them to sparkle? When I need her to breathe? No…I shall not punish her. But I must make her understand the danger she insists on putting herself in.”

Legolas inhaled deeply, crossing his arms. “I have to say, taking aside what I learned this day out in the forest…I did think I had never seen a truer, more devoted love,” he said. “My guess is that she was trying desperately to keep something safe, that something being her entire world. You.”

Troubled eyes met his. “Were you aware of her presence?”

“Not until shortly before your confrontation,” he said. “I saw her up in the trees. I knew not whether you were aware of her, so I said nothing. But I know she saved your life several times, and the lives of quite a few of the company.”

Thranduil closed his eyes as he lowered his head. “I do not know what to do,” he said softly. “I cannot have her charging all through Mirkwood slaughtering everything in sight, yet I cannot ignore the strong instinct she has to be at my side in times of danger. I allocated a guard to stay with her at all times, yet she managed to evade him.”

His son smirked slightly. “She is more resourceful than you give her credit for,” he remarked, and he looked back at him. “She drugged his wine.”

The King rolled his eyes. “Now I have a disgruntled guard whom I must speak with, lest there be any ill-feeling, and a stubborn, angry woman who appears to think I do not appreciate her.”

“The guard fears your wrath more than anything,” he told him. “So I should not think there is a need for concern over ill-feeling. Tara however…I myself was harsh with her, and should seek her to correct things between us.”

“We both have things we need to say, and we both need to listen to her,” he said. “I fear she has closed herself off in a world of anger.”

Legolas shook his head. “No. She is hurting,” he said. “I saw it in her eyes. She possibly thinks she has lost both of us, and I do not think she would cope with that. We are all she has…more so you than I, but nevertheless.”

“Do not underestimate the role you play in her life, my son,” Thranduil said. “She feared meeting you after I brought her back here; she thought you would turn against her for being absent for so long.” He turned and stared out of the window. “So much corruption, so much pain and anger…”

The Prince sighed in defeat. “It is probably best that you speak with her before I,” he said. “I have no doubt that she will be looking for comfort from you.”

He nodded. “I shall find her,” he said, moving past him.

*****

Tara wandered along the hallway, her hands buried in the pockets of her tunic, lost in thought. The emptiness she felt inside engulfed her, and she dreaded the thought of having pissed Thranduil off enough for him to end their relationship. She knew the friendship with Legolas was lost to her; the hatred in his eyes as he’d glared at her out in the forest had told her that.

She possibly should have come clean and told him her reasons for returning back in the beginning, but she had followed his father’s advice and said nothing. The way he had found out was probably the worst way, and she doubted he would give her the chance to explain the logic behind her initial plan.

Thranduil’s anger at her presence during the battle was to be expected; she’d planned to do what she could and return before them, leaving him none the wiser. She knew the guard would not report her, as he too would have to face the King’s anger at allowing her to dupe him in the first place. But as fate had it, he had sensed her.

She knew he had. The arrow that she’d fired into the orc’s chest had alerted him, and he’d homed in on it. Knowing that her cover was more than likely blown, she’d held on to the hope that she could still return undetected and play innocent when he arrived back.

Luck was not taking her side. She took her hands from her pockets, running them through her hair as she sighed out loud in the empty corridor. Whatever was going to happen would happen, and all she could do was face his temper and take whatever punishment he chose to give her. Turning at the end of the hallway, she stepped down onto the high stone walkway that looked down onto the throne.

Even empty, it was still a beautiful sight. The massive antlers branched out majestically, denoting the rule of someone who took a great pride in his realm and his people. She leaned her elbows on the wooden railing, her thoughts drifting back to the day she had first arrived with Caladwen, hiding in her skirts. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she recalled the absolutely enormously tall elf with the longest, blondest hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, walking down the steps and standing before her. She’d peeped through the fabric, giving herself a distorted view, terrified as those knowing eyes had looked directly into hers, having sensed her immediately.

She shifted her stance slightly to relieve the ache in her left leg that had been slowly building since she’d slid out of her hiding place in the woods and landed awkwardly. The wooden railing creaked, and she screamed as the beam she leaned on splintered and gave way, and she lost her balance.


	23. Chapter 23

** CHAPTER TWENTY THREE **

****

Her scream rang out through the cavernous area as she lurched forwards.

Her breath left her as strong hands gripped the back of her tunic and dragged her backwards from the open edge with force, back onto a level standing. Spinning around, she found her chest crushed against Thranduil’s.

Seconds passed as he stared down at her.

Her heart beat erratically through fright. If he hadn’t grabbed her, she would never have survived the fall.

She jumped as he suddenly swept his hands up to frame her face, crushing his mouth down onto hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. Anger, pain, and worry passed through his touch.

But so did love.

He dragged his lips from hers, taking a shuddering breath as he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed. Neither of them spoke. His hands remained on her cheeks, and hers remained gripping his biceps.

He finally moved, gripping one of her hands in his. “Come,” he said, turning and leading her back up along the corridor she’d come from.

She followed him in silence, not knowing what to say, or how to approach him. He walked slightly in front of her, holding her hand tightly in his own, his head bowed a little, not saying a word. She couldn’t tell if he was quietly angry, upset, or building up his fury to explode once they were behind closed doors.

Reaching his chambers, he opened the door and guided her in before him, closing it and locking it. Walking over to the massive window, he stood for a few moments with his back to her.

She stood, trying to get a read on his frame of mind.

“When I make a decision on something, it is only voiced when I have given it considerable thought, looked at it from every possible angle, and taken into account every probable outcome,” he said after a long silence. “I do not make my choices lightly. I do not make rash decisions, and I do not reach conclusions without applying due deliberation.”

She stood in silence behind him, waiting for the explosion.

It never came.

He slowly turned to face her, his expression controlled.

She swallowed.

“That was the third time you have looked death straight in the eye since you have come back to me,” he said. “And two of them were accidents. They are not taking into account what you have faced in battle.” He watched her, his ice blue eyes not changing. “If one of those orcs had reached you as we fought, I could not have protected you, as I did not know you were there. I was under the assumption that you were safe, here in the palace. Under the protection of my guard.”

Her gaze wavered. “My intent was to protect _you,_ ” she said softly. “It was not to disrespect you, or to anger you. I was not willing to see you go off into battle alone.”

He nodded, a slight, subtle movement of his head that acknowledged her point. “I have thousands of years’ experience in battle,” he said. His voice was quiet, low, and lacked the usual authority. “I excel at what I do. I am unbeaten in any confrontation or attack. My guards are trained to the highest level, and are the best in their field.” His eyes lifted to meet hers. “I will never go off to face an enemy and not return. It is not an option.”

She was unsure what to say, unused to him in his present state of mind. Having been expecting anger, fury, or something along those lines, this quiet, sedate disposition unnerved her.

“This leads me to believe that you either doubt my ability as a warrior, or you doubt my word that I will always return,” he said, turning back to the window so his back was presented to her. “I am unsure which. Both options wound me deeply.”

Her head lowered as she took a deep breath. “You should know it is not my intention to wound you, or hurt you,” she whispered. “I too, am a capable fighter, yet you would feel the same way if it was I who was going off into battle. I believe it is known as worry, and usually occurs when one person deeply loves another.”

A gentle touch lifted her chin up, and she found he had moved silently, and was standing before her, gazing into her eyes. “You should know that I love you to a depth which I have never experienced,” he said softly. “This is new territory for me, and I do not know how I should be behaving, or how to act accordingly. You have become so precious to me, and I cannot stand the thought of losing you.” His voice had trailed off to a desperate whisper. His emotions shone clear in his eyes.

He was scared.

He moved closer. “I have spent thousands of years alone, without a lover by my side,” he said. “I have spent those same years forever wondering where you were, what became of you, if you were even still alive. That is a period of existence I cannot and will not return to. I may be regarded as being cold-hearted and cruel, without emotion or feeling, but where you are concerned, nothing could be further from the truth. My heart is ruling my head, my thoughts are clouded and unorganised. I find myself willingly allowing you to control me, and I do not know how to adjust to this.”

“I do not try to control you,” she said, anguish in her eyes. “That is the _last_ thing I want. My nature is to push people as far as I can take them, yet with you it is different. I pay heed to your advice, I listen to what you say. But my instinct to protect you and to put my life in place of yours is far too strong for me to ignore. I cannot change that, my love. I have never valued anyone’s existence before, so I too am lost.”

He looked downwards, searching for the right words. “Legolas wishes to talk with you, when you are ready,” he said.

A stab of hurt sliced through her. She felt he was pulling back from her, emotionally if not physically.

“I will talk with him later,” she replied, taking a step back.

He made no move to stop her, and she turned away, dragging in a deep breath to fight the tears that burned her eyes.

“Tara.”

The single, softly-spoken word stopped her in her tracks, and she turned back to him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And I am scared.” Tears shone in his eyes.

Her heart broke, and she rushed back over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his shoulder. His arms slid around her back, holding her tightly.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I love you so much, I cannot think of what would happen if you were harmed.” Her hold on him tightened as she started to tremble.

He buried his face in her hair. “Do not cry, my darling,” he whispered back. “Please do not cry.”

That made her cry harder, as her emotions all rolled into one and burst free. “I fear I have ruined everything,” she sobbed. “I have pushed you away, and I have lost my friendship with Legolas. I wish I had never come back here; I have lost more here than I have ever lost in my life.”

He grasped her shoulders, setting her away from him slightly. “You have lost nothing here, my love, nothing. I am not going anywhere, you have not lost me. And Legolas is still your friend. He just needed things to be explained to him, that is all. He is as protective of me as you are, and I cannot fault him for that. But you will never lose me, I give you my word. Never.”

Hot tears burned her as they rolled down her cheeks, and he tenderly wiped them away with his thumbs.

“You have shed far too many tears, my darling,” he whispered. “Far, far too many tears. You have done almost nothing but cry since you came back here. This breaks my heart.”

She dragged a shuddering breath in. “There has been so much to take in, so much to learn, to come to terms with,” she said. “Nothing is what I thought it was. And when I fell in love with you, I was unprepared for just how much of an impact you would have on me. For the first time in my life, I find myself putting someone else’s needs before my own, someone’s life being important enough for me to die to protect it. I have never had that before, and it scares me no end. I do not know how to process what I am feeling; the love I have inside, the fear that something will happen to you, the feeling of not knowing anything of my heritage or where I came from.”

A tear rolled down his perfect face as he listened, and she stood up on her toes to kiss it away.

“For the first time in my life, I am asking for help,” she whispered, her lips brushing his soft skin as she spoke. “Please help me with all this. I cannot do it alone.”

He closed his eyes briefly against the pain he felt at her torment. “You will never be alone again, I promise,” he breathed against her. “As long as my heart beats, it will beat as one with yours.”

They stood together, holding tightly to each other, drawing on the other’s love and strength as they fought for the peace that they both needed.

*****

Legolas’s blue eyes met Tara’s across the expanse of the courtyard as he walked through the gates leading his horse. His step faltered a little, and he took a deep breath, but continued to walk forwards.

She stood beside the empty stable, knowing his horse would be returning to it. The question was – would he bring the animal over, or turn him over to an aide and disappear? She waited nervously, not knowing what to expect.

She watched his as he came closer, trying to read his expression as he spoke quietly to the animal. Her nerves churned in dread.

He stopped a few feet from her. “I have spoken with my father,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. He took a deep breath. “He has told me of what has happened since you came back.”

She watched him.

He released the horse, which dutifully walked the few steps into his enclosure. “I wish you had told me the truth from the beginning,” he said, his voice barely louder than a pained whisper. “I wish you had been honest with me.”

“I was ashamed,” she replied, her own voice quiet. “I was mortified at what I had done, at what I put your father through, all because of what I had been led to believe.”

Tear-filled eyes met hers, and the pain in them took her breath away.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

He stepped over to her, opening his arms and embracing her tightly. “I am too; I should have stopped and listened to what you had to say before getting so angry with you,” he said. “I have never doubted my father’s decisions before, and I should not have this time. He does not make foolish or uninformed decisions.”

She clung to her childhood friend, determined not to shed any more tears. She was tired of crying, of grieving, of hurting. It was time to start living, and to embrace positivity instead of negativity.

He eventually pulled back, and gazed down at her. “I can understand why you were angry, and why you came back to seek revenge,” he said.  “I only wish we could have spared you the torment that you have suffered through the years.”

She shook her head. “I do not have the answers, but I assume that everything in life happens for a purpose,” she replied. “My only consolation is that your father did not execute me for threatening his life and being so harsh against him.”

A small smile hovered around his mouth. “There are times when his heart thinks before his head,” he told her. “The day you attacked him was quite possibly one of those times.” He paused. “From what he has told me, your mother has left behind a legacy of nothing but lies and bad feeling.”

She nodded. “Yes. I do not understand her reasoning, but what I do know is that she developed feelings for your father, and for some reason they just ran away with her and clouded her rational thinking and judgement.”

He turned, linking his arm through hers as they left the stables and walked back towards the palace. “I would think her rational thinking had already disappeared,” he said. “My father says she wrote in her diary that she hated you, resented having to take care of you. That is not a normal maternal instinct from any female.”

“Who knows what was going through her head?” she said. “She was left raising another woman’s child, and obviously resented that, even more so when my father passed away. I have resigned myself to the fact that I shall never know what truly went on in her mind.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” he observed. “Sometimes, we can seek the answers and we do not like what we find.”

“Maybe,” she agreed on a soft sigh. “I am blessed that your father did not kill me outright; instead he listened and tried to draw answers out of me, and he realised who I was. The truths started to emerge from there. I had no idea he had been looking for me all this time.”

“He never stopped looking, Tara,” he replied. “For months and months, every single day and night he was out with the patrols, hunting high and low for you. Each time he came home he was more devastated than the last, wondering what had happened to the vulnerable child who had vanished in the middle of the night. He became worse when he found your mo- Caladwen’s body.”

“I feel so sorry that he went through that pain,” she murmered.

“He went mad looking for you after that, determined to find out what had become of you,” he told her. “I can remember some of that time, but not a lot. I do recall he closed off and almost went inside himself, if you know what I mean.”

She nodded. “Yes, I do. That is his way of protecting himself.”

He returned her nod. “Everyone became scared of him after that. People were wary of him before, but it was different. When he was not in a vicious temper, he was sad and withdrawn. I feel he blamed himself to a degree.”

“He had no need to,” she said, her heart pulled in multiple directions as she thought about what he had suffered. “Caladwen had told me that he had forced us to leave, and had hit her when she begged for us to stay. She said he hated me, was tired of me being around all the time. As a child, I adored your father, Legolas, I absolutely adored him. I somehow knew he would always stop her from punishing me, and he would never hurt me.”

They came to a stop, and she realised they had reached the banquet hall.

“He never gave up hope,” he told her. “Many times over the years that followed your name would come up in conversation. He would fall silent every time, and everyone could see how much he was hurting.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I wish I could undo all that,” she whispered.

He offered her a small smile. “From the change I see in him when he looks at you, I would say you are already healing his hurts.” He tightened his hold on her and led her into the hall for something to eat.


	24. Chapter 24

** CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR **

****

“No, Tara. And that is the end of it.” Thranduil’s voice held a trace of agitation.

She pursed her mouth, glaring at him. “You are being unreasonable,” she said in exasperation. “Completely and totally unreasonable.”

Ice blue eyes darted in her direction, looking away again just as quickly.

Ranora and Asira watched the interaction between their King and his love, trying to hide their amusement.

“It would not be in your best interests,” he decided, after battling to find the right words. “You have not had enough training.”

She scoffed. “I do not _need_ more training,” she informed him, her hands on her hips. “I could take on any of your guards at any given time.”

“This I already know, my sweetheart. But I am not comfortable with the little amount you have done with me,” he said. “I would ask that you do more before I consider your request. Or in your case, your demand.”

Asira snorted and quickly left the room as Tara whipped round and glared at her. Ranora muttered her apologies and shot after her.

“They are not helping matters,” she grunted. “Why, Thranduil? Why not?”

He sighed as he tried to maintain a hold on his patience. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” he demanded, rising from his seat. “You are not just any elleth who has a dream to join my armies – you are special to me. I love you. I will do everything to protect you and take care of you. I am not happy at the thought of you riding off into battle at the drop of a hat, or rolling around in the forests slaughtering orcs and spiders. That is a job for my guards, not my lover.”

“Whatever happened to safety in numbers?” she shot back. “I _would_ be protected; I would be surrounded by others in the face of battle.”

“You would _not,_ because I am not allowing it,” he said. He stopped in front of her, staring down at the stubborn, determined eyes that glared up at him.

“You allow your son to fight,” she pointed out.

“He is a trained warrior. He has trained from childhood for his role.”

“I am also a trained warrior.”

“You do not have the training that he has.”

“Yes I do. You trained me. You showed me the basics.”

“The answer is still no. I did not have the opportunity to follow through with your training, my little moonbeam, and you are _well_ aware of this,” he said. “The dwarves did their best, but even they are no match for the elvish skills in warfare and combat. The basics are exactly what I showed you, and there is a lot you still have to learn.”

“So teach me.”

He made a noise halfway between anger and exasperation. “No.” He took her hands, forcing them against his chest with one of his as he tenderly touched her cheek with the other. “I love you,” he said simply.

“And I love you, which is why I want to serve in the armies,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “You have this ridiculous notion that you must work,” he said. “I do not know where such nonsense comes from, Tara. Any other elleth would practically leap at the chance to spend her days at her leisure.”

“I am not any other elleth,” she retorted. “Oh good God…sometimes I wonder if you understand me at all.”

A look of hurt flashed across his ice blue eyes, and she immediately regretted her words.

“I am sorry, I did not mean that to sound the way it came across,” she said quietly. She lifted one hand and rested it against his cheek, savouring the silky touch of his flawless skin. “You know I do not mean to hurt you. I meant that I have been fighting in battle all my life, my love, and I am unused to being so idle.”

“I can understand that,” he said softly, placing one of his hands on hers as it touched him, keeping it against his face. “But…I need you.”

The three softly-spoken words hit her with the impact of a solid punch. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against him, loose strands of her hair tickling his throat as he leaned his chin on top of her head.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much, I have this unrealistic desire to keep you locked away where no harm can befall you. I know I cannot do that, my darling, but I cannot rid myself of the fear that something could happen.”

“Welcome to my feelings when you disappear to rid the forest of spiders and orcs,” she murmered. Lifting her head, she gazed up into his eyes. “I have that feeling every time you go off in battle. I am terrified that you will not return. I am petrified beyond belief that you will be injured, or worse. And it has nothing to do with not trusting your word of how gifted you are; it is an intrinsic nature because I love you more than anything else in this world.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his thumb along her lower lip. “My only suggestion is that we continue practicing, and if you insist on this then you accompany me at all times.”

A grin lit up her face.

“But you do _not –_ and I repeat, _not –_ take off without me, do you understand?” he reiterated. “I will not go through what I have in years past, worried out of my mind over your safety and your whereabouts. We will fight together, if we must fight at all.”

“I can live with that,” she agreed. Her eyes shifted as she ran a hand through the long lengths of his hair, her stomach churning as she did so.

He watched her, amused at her fascination with him. She seemed to notice everything with an almost child-like curiosity. She would lie next to him in bed just gazing at him with a look of immense wonder, often when she thought he was asleep. She would touch his hair and completely lose track of whatever she was saying as she ran her hands through it. She would curl up on the couch beside him with her head resting against his stomach, her hands running up and down the length of his thigh. Everything about him appeared to entice her and fascinate her.

“Will you join me for lunch?” he asked softly, breaking her trance-like state of mind.

Her eyes flicked back to his, and she smiled. “I would be honoured to,” she replied. “Where do you wish to eat?”

He took a deep breath as he turned his head and gazed out of the window. “How about out on the terrace?” he suggested. “The rain has stopped and it promises to be a warm day.” The terrace was a small area which opened off from his study, with a low stone wall separating it from the rest of the gardens and a small table and chairs. Flowers of all colours bloomed in abundance, regularly tended to by the King himself.

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “Shall I go to the kitchens and ask the cook to prepare us something?”

He dropped a light kiss onto her mouth. “Please do. And do not ask – tell him. If he says anything untoward, tell him it is my command, but I doubt he will.”

She slid past him with a smile, leaving the room and quickly making her way down the stone steps towards the kitchens. The cook greeted her with a friendly welcome, insisting of course he would prepare whatever the couple wished to eat.

“There are some melons, peaches, and strawberries in the store, my Lady,” he told her as he quickly moved around fetching the ingredients he would need. “Would you like some of them for afterwards?”

“Ooo, yes please,” she grinned. “I can get them. Where are they?”

“On the bottom shelf, my Lady,” he responded. “On the left hand side at the back.”

“They will not be for much longer,” she laughed, and let herself into the large store. Dropping down onto her knees, she located the containers full of the fruit he had mentioned, and tugged them towards her.

“In the name of…Ballion! How many times do I need to ask you to close this door?” one of the servants yelled from out in the kitchen. “I cannot bring the supplies in if I have to dodge open doors all day!”

The door slammed closed with a heavy bang, shutting Tara in complete darkness.

“Where are your manners?” the cook yelled. “Lady Tara is in the store!”

She turned and made her way back to the closed door, shaking it.

“I hear you, my Lady,” he shouted through the thick, solid wood. “I shall have you out in a moment…damn…”

“Just open the thing, Ballion, what is wrong with you?” the servant said in exasperation.

“It will not open!” the cook replied, panic in his voice.

“Move aside, let me try,” came the reply.

Inside, Tara was panicking. For some reason, the dense darkness was terrifying her, and she had no idea why. “Ballion, can you kick the door in?” she called.

“I cannot, my Lady. It opens outwards,” he called back. “Do not worry, we will have you out in no time!”

Banging sounds filtered through into the store as the cook and the servant tried in vain to force the door open.

She leaned back against the shelves, breathing hard. The blackness was suffocating, and her heart was thumping frantically. Where had this fear of the dark come from? She frowned and concentrated on taking even breaths as she tried to go back through her mind, but nothing came to her.

The banging continued, along with muffled cursing and talking as the two ellon attempted to free her. The handle rattled loudly and then more banging sounded.

“Ballion, I must ask a favour,” she called.

“Yes, my Lady,” he shouted back.

“Please fetch the King,” she said, her voice wavering.

“At once, my Lady,” he replied, and she heard footsteps hurrying away. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to ignore the fact that her breaths were becoming faster and more laboured. Time seemed to drag on forever as she waited, feeling the vibration of her heartbeat through her entire body. Keeping her eyes closed, she concentrated on the memory of what Thranduil had made her feel when he had made love to her through the night. The touch of his hands on her flesh, soft, warm kisses on her skin, and slow, powerful thrusts that had taken her to a strong orgasm which had her crying out his name in pleasure.

She swallowed in an attempt to ease the loud buzzing in her ears. Pulling her knees up, her arms wrapped around them and she began rocking back and forth.

“Tara!”

Thranduil’s deep voice broke into her panicked thoughts.

“Thranduil! The door slammed closed and will not open,” she gasped, leaping to her feet and pressing her hands against the door. “Please get me out.”

His heart leapt as he heard the faint crack in her voice, and knew that she was scared. “Stay calm, my love,” he said, touching his hand to the wood. “I shall have you out before you know it. Move away from the door, my darling.”

She complied, and several loud bangs echoed around the store cupboard, each one making her jump. Knowing she should be feeling calmer as her lover was only feet away from her, she couldn’t understand why her panic wasn’t showing any signs of abating. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe.

A stream of curses in Sindarin reached her ears, followed by muffled, angry words.

“Tara, I am going to use an axe to break through the door,” Thranduil called to her. “One is being brought down as we speak.” He pressed his ear to the wood, but heard no response. “Tara? Tara?”

Still nothing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, whipping round to Ballion. “She is panicking.” He pounded his fist against the obstruction. “Tara, talk to me!”

She lifted her head, which she had lowered to between her knees as she had sat back down on the floor. “I am alright,” she said, her voice quiet and breathless.

His acute hearing picked up her distress. “Stay with me, my little moonbeam,” he said. Turning at the sound of hurried footsteps approaching, he took the axe from the guard who appeared in the kitchen. “Tara, the axe is here. Stay at the back of the store, and turn away from the door, my love.”

She shuffled round in the pitch dark, doing everything in her power to regain her control. The first solid thud hit the door and she jumped a little. More followed. Her body jerked in fright with each heavy blow, and her breathing became shallow and rapid.

The wood splintered and finally the door crashed open.

Thranduil threw the axe aside and barged inside, crossing the length of the enclosure in three long strides.

“You are safe, my darling,” he whispered, lowering himself to his knees and hauling her shaking body into his arms. “Everything is alright. You are free.”

She clung to him, wheezing for air.

He rose to his feet again, lifting her off the floor, and exited the store. Ballion, the servant, and the guard stepped aside in silence as he swept past them and out of the kitchen area. Crossing the hallway to sit on the stone stairway on the right hand side, he held her tightly and rocked from side to side with her.

“Sssh, my darling,” he whispered. “Sssh.”

Her whole being trembled in his arms. She buried her face in against his neck as she gasped and panted, holding on to him as though her life depended on him. “What happened to me in there?” she whispered. “I have never been afraid of the dark.”

His hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back, but he didn’t answer her question. “Come. We shall go back to my chambers, where you will rest and have something to eat.”

She shook her head stubbornly, pulling back a little. Terrified eyes gazed into his. “No. I want to eat out on the terrace,” she told him. “Let us do what we originally planned to do.”

He frowned. “Do you not think you would be better having a lie down in bed once you have eaten?” he asked as he lifted stray hair from her face. “You were severely distressed in there.”

She shook her head again. “No. I am fine,” she insisted. “I want to sit out in the sun with you.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a few moments, before yelling for the cook. Giving him orders to prepare their lunch as before and have it served out on the terrace, he shifted her in order to stand and took her up with him. He entwined his fingers through hers and took her back up the steps towards his study, dreading the conversation that he knew was waiting for him.


	25. Chapter 25

** CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE **

****

A delighted laugh erupted from Tara as she held out a piece of lettuce, and the soft velvet nose of the deer nuzzled her hand before delicately accepting it.

Thranduil smiled as he watched her.

“She is beautiful,” she said in wonder, watching the animal as it turned away and walked back over the grass.

“Yes, she is,” he agreed, and lifted his tea.

She turned back to face him and placed her elbows on the table. “What happened to me?” she asked. “Why did I have a sudden fear of the dark, when I have never had such a fear in my life?”

“You have never felt such unease such as that before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Never. And remember – I have spent most of my life outdoors, and the forests are pitch black at night if the moon is not shining.”

Ice blue eyes held hers for what felt like forever. “Do you recall you and Legolas putting goosegrass in my bed?”

Her eyebrows came down in a frown. “No.”

He smiled, running a fingertip around the rim of his cup. “You did, and made the bed perfectly afterwards. Needless to say, I retired for the night after a really long, tiring day and spent the next week removing the blasted creation. Every day I was finding those little round parts that stick to clothing.”

She pulled her mouth in, in an attempt to hide her grin. “I cannot remember such an act.”

“Oh, I most definitely do,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers. They sparkled with a dangerous, yet alluring glimmer. “Unfortunately, Caladwen discovered what you had done, and punished you, despite my efforts at shielding you.”

Her amusement vanished. “What did she do? I cannot believe I have no memory of this,” she said.

He inhaled deeply. “She locked you in a cupboard,” he replied. “I do not know how long you were there for, but I was going to my chambers and I heard you crying. The door was locked, and I had to break it down to release you.”

Tara remained silent as she digested his revelation.

“You were inconsolable,” he said, his voice soft. “I picked you up and you wrapped your little arms and legs around me and would not let go. I was so angry, my little moonbeam, so angry. I searched for her and demanded an explanation for what she had done, but she denied it. She offered the excuse that it must have been one of the childish pranks you and Legolas had pulled that had gone wrong. But you screamed like a demon when she tried to take you from me, and I knew she was lying to me.”

She crossed her legs at the ankles under her seat, tapping her feet together.

“She went berserk, trying to grab you from me, but you became really distressed and would not let me go,” he continued. “I refused to hand you over, and took you back to my chambers and sent for Legolas. He knew nothing of the cupboard, and my son would not tell me untruths. The two of you spent the night sleeping in my bed, and I remained awake reading while keeping watch over you both.”

Tara stared at him. “I do not understand why I have no memory of that happening,” she said, a slight frown of concentration marring her forehead. “I would have thought I would remember something that obviously traumatised me to such an extent.”

“I suspect your mind has closed itself off from any bad memories of what she did to you,” he said, still running his fingertip around the rim of the cup. “It is your own way of coping with everything. You can remember the good memories, but not the bad ones. Perhaps the way she died, so violently, triggered the shut-down.”

The look in her eyes was so forlorn, he abandoned the cup and reached across the table, linking his fingers through hers.

“I wonder how many more memories I have closed myself away from,” she murmered. “I honestly do not recall any of that.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not consciously, no. But being locked in the kitchen store obviously hit a nerve somewhere deep inside your subconscious mind, and a small part of you knew that something bad was associated with being shut away in the dark against your will.”

“Thankyou for breaking me out,” she said quietly.

His eyes widened in astonishment. “What? Why are you thanking me?” he exclaimed, uncrossing his legs and leaning on the table, still holding her hand. “Tara, my darling, I would walk through dragon fire for you! Surely you can see that?”

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But you have things to attend to, without running around getting me out of ridiculous situations.”

He grinned. “That is one thing that has not changed since you were a child,” he said. “And it probably never shall. Do you remember when Legolas was swimming in the lake out by the edge of the gardens?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Very vaguely,” she said slowly.

His grin widened. “You could not swim at that young age, but you thought he was drowning, so you jumped in to rescue him. I ended up wading in fully clothed to drag the two of you back onto dry land.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I still cannot swim,” she said as her cheeks turned pink.

“What?” he almost shouted. “Honestly…you are unable to swim?”

She shook her head with a sheepish look. “No.”

Pursing his mouth thoughtfully, he regarded her for a few moments. “Then this we shall rectify,” he said decidedly.

“Oh no,” she said, pulling away from him. “I have no wish to learn. I have survived this long.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked softly. A hint of a dare lurked in his words.

“Of course I am not!” she retorted, insulted. “I simply have no desire and no need to swim. That is all.”

“Nonsense,” he said immediately. “Do you not trust me?”

“With my life,” she whispered.

His eyes softened, the humour gone. “Then let me teach you,” he whispered back. “You could not be in safer hands, my love. I love you more than anyone else ever could, so rest assured I would never allow you to come to harm.”

“I know this,” she said, dropping her gaze to the table. “I just think that perhaps I am too old to learn.”

He snorted, lifting his tea and taking a drink. “Ridiculous. I will take you this afternoon. We shall go down to the lake I spoke of.”

“I hope you have endless amounts of patience,” she muttered, and lifted a slice of melon from her plate.

He watched her chew the soft fruit. “I have patience,” he murmered.

*****

Tara closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. The water lapping around her body was soothing in motion, but inside, she was terrified. Several deep breaths did nothing to alter her frame of mind.

“Just relax and breathe,” Thranduil’s velvet voice swept over her. “I promise I will not let you come to any harm.”

“I know this,” she responded, trying to do as he said. But her body wouldn’t relax enough.

His gentle hands were placed under her, keeping her afloat in the water. “Feel the water moving around you, and move with it,” he said.

She glanced up at him, seeing the patience in his eyes as he stood next to her. The water came to just below his waist, and she had an amazing view of his bare upper body. Sighing softly, she flipped her feet and forced herself to relax.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Become one with the water.”

She complied, and allowed the feelings of relaxation to flow over her. Still kicking her feet, she focused on her breathing.

The minutes ticked past, the air still around them.

“Open your eyes,” he said softly.

She did.

He was standing around six feet away from her.

She was floating!

She screamed as she realised he was no longer supporting her, and sunk beneath the surface. Splashing frantically, she rose back up, spitting water out and searching for him in a panic.

“Relax, my darling,” he said as he closed the distance between them, taking a hold of her arms and pulling her close. “You were floating by yourself.” A victorious smile accompanied his words.

“You abandoned me,” she accused, but with no malice.

He laughed. “I did not. I never left you, I was always within a safe distance,” he said.

She splashed water over him in mock annoyance. “I could have drowned,” she grumbled, watching the clear liquid run down his chest.

“I would have rescued you,” he smiled, watching the colour of her eyes darken.

On impulse, she leaned towards him and kissed his chest. “I think we have had enough for this day,” she said decidedly, lifting her eyes to his.

His jaw clenched. “I would be inclined to agree,” he said. “Come. We shall return to the palace and change.” He took her hand and led her from the water, trying to ignore the way the short white slip dress she wore clung to every curve. The fabric was almost transparent, and it took every ounce of self control not to throw her onto the grass and tear it from her. “You may wear this,” he told her, lifting his cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She held it closed at the front, reading the desire in the eyes that refused to meet hers, and smiled to herself as he turned away to put his tunic back on. The couple held hands as they crossed through the trees towards the palace, a quiet peace between them.

“I have need to go into the villages on the outskirts of the realm come tomorrow,” he said eventually. Blue eyes turned to her. “Do you wish to accompany me?”

“I would love to,” she responded. “For what reason do you wish to go?”

“I usually visit come the fall of each season, but I have been otherwise occupied in recent times,” he answered. “I take my guards and check on the traders, the villagers. It is merely to find out if they have what they need in order to be comfortable, not scraping for their next meal.”

She frowned. “Have you always done this?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“People talk of what you are like, but they never mention that side of you,” she murmered.

“I assume when you say _people,_ you are referring to those who do not dwell in my kingdom?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He smirked, holding the door open for her to enter before him. “Then that makes perfect sense,” he commented. “Others who do not reside under my rule will not wish to acknowledge that not everything I do has a negative effect on my subjects. They prefer the tales of torture, of cruelty, of punishments and executions. It makes better gossip for their idle tongues.” His hand was warm on her lower back as they walked towards his chambers.

“I confess to having held those thoughts once,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “It would seem that would put me in the same light as those who freely spread lies and untruths.”

“No. It puts you in the light of not being told the truth from the beginning,” he corrected. “There is a big difference, my little moonbeam. It is by no means anywhere near the same.”

“I developed a habit in the past of spitting fire any time someone mentioned your name,” she said dryly as they approached the heavy ornately carved doors to his quarters.

“And what do you spit now?” he teased, reaching over her shoulder to open them.

She walked in before him, turning to face him as he followed her and closed them at his back. A casual shrug of her shoulders sent his cloak drifting to the floor, and lust blazed in his eyes. Closing the gap between them, she stopped a hair’s breadth away, gazing up into the ice blue.

“Desire,” she whispered.

His nostrils flared, but he remained as still as a statue.

“Lust. A deep ache. A need that takes over my entire body, from head to toe,” she said, still in the same hushed tone. “A burn that refuses to be extinguished.” Her fingers worked the buttons on his tunic as she talked. “A weakness that only you can strengthen. A craving that only you can satisfy.” The tunic slid down his arms and landed on the floor behind him with a soft rustle of the fabric.

“Touch me.” His whispered plea compelled her to press a kiss to his still-damp throat, and her fingers trailed lightly up his sides. He inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes closing as she kissed along his neck and down his shoulder. Delicate feminine hands drew small circles over his skin, almost shyly and hesitantly, showing her slight insecurity over her inexperience.

She kissed her way down the sculpted muscle, pausing to flick her tongue over one nipple, and he inhaled sharply. The slight tremor in his body passed through to her, and she smiled against him, deciding she must be doing it correctly.

“Do not doubt what you do to me,” he whispered coarsely, as though he was reading her mind. “Do not question the control you have over me.”

She moved her hands further down his torso and over his flat, toned abdomen. The fastenings of his tight trousers soon came undone as she moved, the wet material sliding over his hips to pool at his feet. Her mouth followed her hands.

His fingers tangled in her hair as his breathing increased, sparks of fire flowing through his blood. His mouth opened with a gasp as she sank to her knees and wrapped both hands around his length, moving up and down with a firm grip. Moisture leaked from his tip, and she hesitated briefly before swiping her tongue across it.

His breath caught and his body jerked, so she did it again, and swirled her tongue around the head. Encouraged by the deep moan that rumbled from his chest, she took him in her mouth, sucking and teasing him as her hands tightened around him. Strained gasps reached her ears as he struggled to breathe, his senses in overload by what she was doing to him. One of his hands ripped from her hair and shot out to brace against the door as she took him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. The other tightened as he gripped the silken strands, holding her still as he gently thrust in and out of her mouth.

Soft curses in Sindarin tumbled from his lips as he moved, the wet warmth sending explosions through him. His hand fisted against the door as he clenched his teeth.

“Enough,” he growled, pulling free from her and hauling her to her feet. His mouth crushed hers as he dragged her flush against him, his erection throbbing between them. “You drive me completely insane,” he gasped against her.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked in hurt confusion as he nuzzled her neck and sank his teeth into the inviting flesh.

“Nothing,” he hissed. “Absolutely nothing. You rid me of my self control. You break down every defence I have ever put in place. You rob me of my ability to think.” Determined hands stripped the short dress from her and roamed all over her. “I cannot decipher what is day and what is night when you touch me; what is right and what is wrong, or even what season of the year it is. I simply cannot think.”

He turned her around, lifting her and backing her up against the door as he positioned her legs around his waist and guided himself into her. Both of them gasped in pleasure at the intense feeling, and they shared a smile as he began to move. She wriggled her hips and urged him deeper, tightening her legs around him. His hot flesh burned hers as he pushed tightly against her, his weight holding her against the wood at her back.

“I could fuck you a thousand times a day and it would not be enough,” he panted.

Her insides clenched at his erotic words, and he grunted in response, thrusting harder.

“Then fuck me like it is the first time of a new day,” she whispered as she ran the tip of her tongue under his ear.

“Every time is like the first time of a new day,” he gasped. “You are so tight…so wet…” He moved faster as the need to climax rushed towards him at speed. Her restless movements told him she was close to completion, and he gyrated his hips as he pushed into her. She groaned; a deep, throaty noise that almost had him coming on the spot.

His hand slid up and held her neck and her jaw as his mouth devoured hers in a hungry, passionate kiss. Her tongue wrestled with his as the tension wound tighter and tighter, her hands gripping his hair and tugging hard in the heat of the moment. Her strangled whimpers turned frantic as her body exploded around him, his kiss silencing her cries. He drove deeper into her, her rhythmic clenching pushing him to his own climax.

His weight sagged against her, sandwiching her between his solid body and the wooden door at her back, as they both struggled for breath. He lifted his head from her shoulder and turned to her as she kissed him; breathless, panting kisses that spoke of the deep connection between them.

“I love you so much,” she whispered into him, running her hands through his long hair that had tangled into her own.

“I love you so much more,” he replied, and gently lifted her off him and eased her onto her feet. He rested his forehead against hers, still breathing heavily. “What have you done?”

She giggled, twisting up to kiss him once more. “I have found where I truly belong,” she replied. “Right here, in your arms.”

“In my heart,” he told her.


	26. Chapter 26

** CHAPTER TWENTY SIX **

****

“I shall ensure adequate supplies are provided before the winter arrives,” Thranduil assured the elderly shopkeeper. “They will be delivered by my guards within the next month.”

“Oh, I give you my utmost thanks and my gratitude, my Lord,” the old woman said, tears gathering in her eyes as she curtsied before him. “I fear we would not make it through the winter without your aid.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he replied, gently touching her shoulder in a gesture for her to rise. “Everything will be taken care of.”

A few more words were exchanged, then he turned to take Tara’s hand and lead her from the small shop which sold bakery goods. Stepping out into the crisp, fresh air, he took a deep breath.

“I intend on sending one of my healers along with the supplies,” he told one of the guards who he had stationed outside. “I fear she will succumb to a severe cold if her symptoms are left untreated.”

“Very good, my Lord,” the guard replied with a short bow. “Shall I send word back to the palace right away?”

He shook his head. “No. I shall deal with it upon our return. In the meantime, take two guards and go to her home – check on her husband. He is even older than she, and the humans are a very frail race.”

“Of course, my Lord,” the guard said, turning sharply on his heel and commanding two of those assembled in his own tongue.

“Make way for the King!” another one called, leading the way as Thranduil turned to proceed. “Make way for the King!”

“I have seldom seen the market so busy,” Tara commented.

“People are stocking up for the coming months,” he replied, tightening his fingers around hers as they moved through the crowds. “By all accounts, the oncoming winter promises to be a harsh one.”

“I love the snow,” she said. “It will be a different experience for me this time, not having to sleep out in it.”

He smiled at her, lowering his head. “No, my darling. This time you will be snuggled under blankets before a roaring fire, your body being teased and worshipped,” he whispered into her ear.

She blushed furiously, making him laugh as he rose back to his full height.

“You embarrass so easily,” he observed. “That will change.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “I am glad you seem to think so,” she muttered.

“What do you have to be ashamed of?” he asked. “Nothing. You are beautiful in every way, and it is clearly time that you realised it.”

She scoffed, but kept her thoughts to herself as they entered the next shop. She occupied herself browsing through the clothing on the racks there as he conversed with the owner. Small snippets of conversation drifted over, but she didn’t pay any attention.

Reaching the end of the rail, she turned and gazed out of the window, not wanting to intrude on the interaction between Thranduil and the shopkeeper. People drifted past, wrapped in cloaks and shawls, herding small children and animals as they went about their daily business. The sky overhead was heavy with thick, grey clouds, holding the promise of rain.

Her gaze lowered and she found herself looking into a pair of eyes.

Eyes that were hostile.

A woman with light brown hair stood at the far side of the marketplace, her gaze fixed on Tara. A blue shawl was wrapped around her, the loose ends blowing in the wind. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Tara frowned, her back up instantly at such an open look of hostility.

Thranduil sensed her mood change and turned his head, wondering what had caused it. His gaze followed hers and his heart missed a beat.

Snapping back to the present and quickly wrapping up his conversation, he went over and stood behind her. “Shall we take our leave?”

She turned, smiling up at him. “Yes if you are ready,” she said.

He returned her smile, taking her hand in his once more. “I rather wish to return to the palace and have something to eat,” he told her. “Does that sound agreeable?”

“Of course it does.” She replied. “Although I must be honest…I am just anticipating the ride back with you,” she added with a cheeky grin.

He laughed, pulling her behind him as he stepped out into the street. “Any excuse to be in my arms,” he said.

“And I shamelessly admit it,” she quipped. She stepped off the raised walkway and walked alongside him. He dropped her hand and slid his arm around her waist instead, pulling her tightly to his side. She smiled as she placed one hand on his torso, absorbing the heat from his body, and the other around his back.

“I do not wish to tarry,” he remarked, quickening his stride towards the horses. “I have things to attend to when we have eaten.”

She picked up a slight undercurrent to his tone, but didn’t comment.

Walking next to her, he made a conscious effort to shield her from prying eyes.

*****

“Father, are you absolutely sure it was her?” Legolas asked, shaking his head. “You said yourself that it was impossible.”

“My own eyes do not deceive me,” Thranduil said, vexed. He paced up and down the room, his hands behind his back. “I would know her anywhere. It is almost as though some dark forces are at work, or something of that ilk.”

His Captain exchanged a look with the Prince. “My Lord, if I may,” he said, speaking hesitantly. “Is there a possibility, no matter how small, that the woman you saw had merely a strong resemblance to the one you speak of?”

He shook his head, his long blond hair swishing from side to side with the gesture. “No. It was her. I know it as true as I would know my own kin. It was definitely her.”

Legolas drummed his fingers lightly against the wooden table. “Have you made Tara aware?”

“No,” he snapped, lifting his head and glaring at him. “And she will not know. This would destroy her. She has had enough to contend with, enough evil has been done to her. I will have her suffer no more.” Ice blue eyes stared into his son’s. “And you will not make her aware.”

He shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said. “But what will happen if Tara sees her? What if she has come in search of her?”

Thranduil cursed in Sindarin. “She will not get anywhere near her,” he vowed angrily.

“It does beggar one question though, my Lord,” said Parviel, the King’s closest advisor. “Who did the body that we found belong to, if not to Caladwen?”

He halted pacing, tipping his head back and gazing up at the high roof. “That I do not know,” he sighed. “I do not know.”

*****

“I am worried about the King,” Tara confessed, shaking the garment she held out in front of her. “He does not seem to be himself of late. I fear something troubles him.”

Asira raised her eyebrows. “I am sure he would tell you if that was the case, my Lady,” she replied. “More than likely he is simply preoccupied with matters of the realm.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, laying the garment flat and folding it. “I have saw very little of him these last few weeks. That is not like him at all.”

Calath paused in her task. “What became of the swimming lessons?” she asked.

Tara shrugged. “I have had no more,” she replied. “And there has been no more sword practice. Nothing. I am beginning to wonder if I have angered him in some way.”

“Did you put honey in his boots again?” Ranora chuckled.

“No, I have not done anything like that recently,” she told her.

The maid frowned thoughtfully. “Then I would agree with Asira in that he is busy ruling the kingdom,” she decided. “I would not cast too much worry on it, my Lady.”

Calath hoisted a heavy basket of clean linen up onto the workspace. “At least you see him every night,” she pointed out. “I cannot be with Arelon until after the wedding. My parents will not allow it.”

Tara made a sympathetic noise, realising that her friend did indeed have a valid point. “Perhaps I am making something out of nothing,” she sighed. “But I miss the time we used to spend together.”

Ranora’s eyes sparkled. “Then you must think of a way to distract him from his work, so you can have some private time with him,” she teased, accompanied by a chorus of whistles and jeers.

Tara blushed. “I do not mean _that_ kind of time,” she protested with a laugh. “I mean time where we would go riding together, or sit reading together. But I think you just might have a good idea, Ranora. A very good idea.”

The maids giggled between themselves as they continued their chores.

Later that afternoon, Thranduil sat with his elbows on the desk, his hands covering his face. Despair ripped through him, and he had no idea as to how he should handle things. The woman in the market a few weeks previously had without a shadow of a doubt been Caladwen. The fact that she was alive turned his blood to ice.

His guard had brought up a very valid point when he asked who the body had belonged to that they had found when searching for her and Tara. Mutilated beyond recognition and half-eaten by the orcs, they had all assumed it had been Caladwen. She had been wearing a dress belonging to her, and had eaten some of the poisonous fruit. Given the letter that she had left behind, it stood to reason that they had reached the assumption that it was her.

Tara would be devastated. And angry. And he didn’t know how to cope with her when she flew into a rage outwith his control. She thought he could handle her, and he gave the illusion that he could, but inside, he worried when she became really angry. Knowing that she had grown up on lies and deceit, she had good reason to hold grudges, and had learned to hold onto them and use them for her benefit when it suited her.

A soft knock on the door caught his attention.

“Enter,” he said wearily, lifting his head.

Tara came into view. “Are you busy?” she asked.

He looked around. “No,” he replied in an exhausted voice. “You have caught me in a rare moment of being idle. What can I do for you, my love?”

She smiled, brightening his mood a little. “I have something which I think requires your attention,” she said. “I hate to put on you, but I have tried to fix it and am unable to.”

He stood up. “What have you broken this time, in a fit of mischief?” he asked rhetorically.

She gazed up at him with wide eyes and a knowing smile. “Not a thing,” she answered. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because I know how creative your mind can be when you have nothing to occupy it,” he said, brushing his mouth over hers as he drew level with her. “Come and show me what monkey business you have been up to.”

She grinned at him as he slid his warm hand into hers, following him out of the study he seemed to live in lately. They passed several guards and maids as they went along the hallways, and she purposefully led him down the hallway towards his chambers.

“Please do not tell me you have set some sort of trap in my rooms,” he said as they approached.

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding,” she laughed, fidgeting in her pocket.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a frown.

“Come down here a little,” she said as a way of reply.

“What?”

“Just do it…please,” she said.

He rolled his eyes and hunched over a little. She whipped a silk scarf from her pocket and quickly covered his eyes, tying it at the back of his head.

“You are truly up to something,” he muttered. “May I stand back up now?”

“If you are capable, yes,” she retorted, taking hold of both his hands and walking backwards, pulling him with her. “Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time, yes,” he replied. “Right now? No.” He ended on a laugh.

“Cheeky,” she scolded playfully, nodding to the two guards in the hallway. They returned her gesture, knowing it was her signal that they make sure no one disturbed them.

Reaching the large carved doors, she let one of his hands go to open them, pulling him inside the room and closing them again.

He stood still, breathing deeply. “I smell something,” he murmered. “Something like…berries…cherries? Strawberries?”

“Maybe,” she answered. “And maybe not.”

He snorted softly, aware that she was moving beside him. “I sense trickery is afoot.”

“Ha,” she laughed. Taking a deep breath, she decided to grab the proverbial bull by the horns. “Alright…I shall remove the blindfold.” Standing up on her toes, she reached around as he tipped his head forward slightly to make it easier for her, and the silk knot slid free.

He straightened back up and blinked, his gaze absorbing everything before him. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.


	27. Chapter 27

** CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN **

****

Thranduil stared, not making a sound.

Tara bit her lip nervously, wondering what he was thinking.

He slowly moved forwards, walking around the room.

The heavy drapes had been closed, shutting out the dying rays of daylight. Lit candles sat in clusters at different points. Flower petals had been trailed along the floor. Bowls of fresh strawberries, melon, berries, and peaches were set around a large platter of cheese, cold meats, and freshly baked bread which was placed on a soft blanket spread out in the middle of the room. Cushions were laid out so they could sit down.

He turned his eyes to hers, and the look in them took her breath away. “I have been neglecting you,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “No. You have been so busy,” she corrected softly. Stepping towards him, she gently took his hand in hers. “I did not mean to push you into something you do not want. I just felt that you needed to step away from being a King for a short while, and relax.”

He smiled, but she could see he was struggling with his emotions. “This is beautiful,” he said. “Thankyou so much, my darling. And I am sorry I have not been as attentive recently.”

She shook her head again, tilting up onto her toes. His warm mouth met hers in a soft, tender kiss, and she smiled as she pulled back. “I thought you might like to have something to eat, then a hot bath followed by a relaxing massage,” she said.

“That sounds too good to be true,” he replied, and shrugged the cloak from his shoulders. “After you, my Lady.”

Still holding his hand, she lowered herself down onto one of the cushions, and he sat beside her so that his body was turned partly towards her. A smiled hovered around his mouth as he watched her prepare a sandwich for him, turning to a grin as she handed it to him before making her own.

They talked while they ate, and he gradually felt some of the tension easing from his shoulders. Carrying it around over the last few weeks had tired him out. He realised he had missed her company having been so immersed in matters of the realm, missed her clever wit and her sense of humour. As he gazed into her eyes as she was talking, it hit him hard just how much he loved her. Her infectious smile and contagious laugh warmed his soul.

Shifting closer to her, he turned her head towards him and crushed his mouth over hers, cutting off her flow of words. “I love you,” he whispered. “I just wanted you to know that. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

She smiled, touching her fingers to his cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered back. “Can I prepare a bath for you?”

“Perhaps I should be preparing one for you,” he said.

“No, tonight I am spoiling you,” she replied, pushing herself to her feet. Disappearing into his bathing chamber, she poured scented oils into the warm water and swished her hand around, creating a blanket of bubbles. “Ready when you are,” she called through as she folded towels ready for him.

She jumped as he appeared silently behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and placing a soft kiss on her neck.

“Will you be joining me?” he purred.

“No, I bathed before I came to get you,” she answered. “This, my darling, is for you. You need to relax and forget about being a King for a short while.” Her hands undid his tunic as she turned to face him, peeling it from him and folding it on the chair. He quickly removed his boots and trousers, and groaned in pleasure as he lowered himself into the water.

“Oh my…” he murmered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “This is wonderful.”

“And so it should be,” she said. She lifted a jug and poured water over his shoulders. “You deserve to be pampered, yet you do not allow yourself the time to indulge.”

“Sometimes I do not have time, my little moonbeam,” he said tiredly. “The kingdom does not run itself, and without my presence things can get out of hand far too quickly.”

“Then perhaps you should consider allowing Legolas to take charge to give you a break,” she suggested. “Sit up a little and I will wash your hair.”

“He has his own matters to attend to,” he told her, obliging her command. “Being a King is not a job where I can take holidays if I wish.”

“No, but you still need precious time to yourself,” she pointed out. The soft sighs coming from him as she massaged his scalp told her she was doing a satisfactory job doing his hair. “All work and no play…”

“I just have to make the most of any play time I do manage to get,” he murmered. The soothing movements she made had relaxed him into a deep state, and his entire body felt as though it was floating in the bath.

After soaping him and rinsing the bubbles away, she held the towel out for him and he stepped out onto the tiled floor, taking it from her. He wrapped it around his waist as she turned him and dried his hair, followed by his back and shoulders then down to his legs. Going back to the front, she dried his chest and stomach, then down to his feet.

“Now go and lie down,” she ordered, one hand on her hip and the other pointing in the direction of the bed.

A smirk curved his mouth as he obeyed, and settled on top of the soft blankets.

“Roll onto your front, please,” she said as she poured oil onto her hands and rubbed her palms together.

“What are you going to do to me?” he grumbled into the pillow.

“Completely relax you,” she answered. She climbed over him and sat on his upper thighs, sweeping her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Working in smooth, firm strokes, she massaged his entire back down to the edge of the towel, before moving off him. Long legs that consisted of solid muscle were her next focus point, and she rhythmically worked her way up using her thumbs to work deep into the tissue.

Deep groans sounded muffled in the pillow as she continued, and that brought a smile to her face. He needed this. She needed this; she had missed the quiet intimacy of just the two of them alone together. This peaceful time that she was devoting to him was proving beneficial for her, as she found herself relaxing with him and enjoying the close contact.

“This feels incredible, my love,” he murmered sleepily. “Absolutely marvellous.”

“Good. I am glad you are enjoying it,” she replied. “Now roll over. I need to work on your front.”

He rolled with a deep groan, shifting and settling on his back. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze dropped to the towel, which was lifted prominently from his hips.

“That is _not_ what this was supposed to be for,” she laughed, her cheeks turning pink.

He shrugged. “What can I say? Your hands on me drive me wild. You have that effect on me. You have that magic.”

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him playfully as she poured more oil onto her hands. Nudging his hair to the sides, she worked on his chest and stomach, ever aware that each sweep of her hands was causing his breathing to deepen.

By the time she reached his abdomen, he gripped her arms and rolled her over, nudging her legs apart with his knee as his hands tangled in her hair and his mouth met hers.

“I need you,” he whispered, in between deep kisses. “I need you so badly…”

Soft sighs and the sounds of passionate kisses were the only noises in the room as the towel disappeared and two became one. Nothing in the realm mattered as he thrust into her, melted in her arms, and claimed her as his.

*****

Tara smiled to herself as she folded the deep purple fabric over her arm, running her hand along the silky material in appreciation. Having already selected some in a stunning reflective silver, she planned on stitching Thranduil a cloak as a surprise. The purple would look amazing on him, set off by the silver lining she planned to use. Turning to the guard who had accompanied her, she smiled at him and said she was ready to head back to the palace.

The guard held the shop door open for her and bowed slightly as she passed through, her precious load held tightly once it had been wrapped. He took it from her and loaded it into one of the bags on her horse’s saddle, making sure the straps were tightly secure.

Tara glanced around while she waited, and pulled her cloak tighter around herself against the biting chill of the wind that had sprung up from nowhere. The market was a little less busy than her previous visit with Thranduil, but still relatively active.

Her gaze turned skywards as a few flakes of snow drifted past her face, and she smiled as she held her hand out to catch them. They melted instantly on her skin, and she wiped her hand on her clothing. Turning back, her eyes caught those of another.

She frowned.

It was the same elleth who had stared at her the last time she had gone to the market. And again, she was still staring at her with an air of hostility.

“I shall not be a moment,” she told the guard, stepping away from him. She crossed the square, making a beeline for the woman. The elleth’s gaze didn’t falter. “Do I know you?” she asked her.

The woman smirked ever so slightly.

“Is that a yes, or a no?” Tara asked. “I ask because I saw you once before, and your demeanour was as unfriendly then as it is this day.”

“You used to know me,” the woman replied.

She frowned. “I do not remember you.”

“It was a long time ago, Tarellethiel,” she said.

“How do you know my name?” she asked. “I do not know yours.”

The elleth smirked again. “Think harder,” she said. “Think many, many years ago. Think back to a time when you had the ruler of this land in the palm of your hand. Just like you do now.”

Tara’s frown deepened. “I do not speak in riddles, nor do I participate in attempting to unravel them,” she said. “I have better things to do than try to make sense of ramblings from a madwoman.”

She turned away, only for the stranger to grip her wrist.

“Those better things being in his bed?” she hissed. “I saw you together. And he saw me. He knows who I am. He took you away from here so quickly, it was clearly obvious he recognised me.”

Tara shook her off. “I do not know who you are or what your business is, but it has nothing to do with me,” she said.

“You are wrong. You took everything from me,” the elleth spat in anger. “And you have come back from the past to do it all over again. Those orcs should have finished you off years ago.”

“Do not talk to me of orcs!” she blazed. “You know nothing. I lost my mother to those abhorrent beasts!”

One eyebrow lifted.

Tara’s breathing stilled as she stared at the deranged woman. Very slowly, something clicked in her mind. “ _Caladwen?”_ she whispered. “Caladwen?! My mother?!”

“I am not your mother, I never was!” she bit out. “I was left with you after your no-use father slipped and cracked his head open as we were crossing through the valley from Rohan! You are not my blood!”

She took a step back in horror. “I thought you were dead,” she gasped.

The elleth smiled humourlessly. “Oh no. I did not die. The body they found was not mine,” she said.

Tara shook her head. “What…why..?”

Caladwen stepped closer to her. “I see you have charmed your way into Thranduil’s good graces yet again, even after being away for so long,” she hissed venomously. “Again, you take what should rightfully be mine.”

“I take nothing of yours,” she shot back, her anger awakening. “He was never yours to take. He never felt anything towards you, other than pity and a need to protect what he thought was a vulnerable mother. How wrong he was!”

“My Lady?” The guard’s questioning voice broke into the exchange. “We must make our way back to the palace, if you will, my Lady.”

“He is using you,” Caladwen growled in a low voice. “He saw me the other day. He knows who I am. And I will not disappear and allow you to have what was never meant for you.”

“Stay away from me,” Tara warned, leaning close to her. “And stay away from Thranduil. I know of all your lies, your deceit, of the evil that lives in your soul. I found your diary. I read _everything._ You are not real; you are dead to me. You were going to end my life through petty jealousy, and I was only a child! You have no place here, no meaning.”

“If that thought brings you comfort, then so be it,” Caladwen replied. “But Thranduil will turn to me. That is my promise. I will not let you take him from me again!”

Tara swung round and marched over towards the horses, with the guard waiting several feet from where she had stood.

“Is everything satisfactory, my Lady?” he asked, glancing between her and Caladwen.

She didn’t answer, but swung herself up onto her horse. He shrugged and mounted his, and the pair turned without a backward glance and left the market.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Tara was spitting fire by the time she entered the palace. Having managed to keep her temper in check during the ride back, she had fallen into a stony silence, and the guard who accompanied her didn’t try to break it.   
Doors crashed open and banged with a vengeance as she searched for Thranduil. Marching from one corridor to the next, she stormed into every hall and meeting room she passed, determined to find him. Guards and maids hurriedly stepped aside as she swept past, determination in her stride and anger on her face warning those in her path not to hinder her.  
Thranduil was standing at the window of one of the smaller rooms he kept for storing revenue documents, going over the figures of the latest trade deal with a human settlement just south of Ravenhill. He jumped as the door flew open, crashing against the chair behind it.  
“Tara?” he said in concern, rising from his seat on the window ledge.  
She stood before him, fury in her eyes. “You deceived me,” she accused.  
He blinked in confusion. “Regarding what?”  
“Do not stand there and lie to me!” she shouted, slamming the door behind her. The resounding bang echoed throughout the corridors. “You know exactly what I speak of!”  
“Tara, I-“  
“No!” she screamed, her body trembling with anger. “Do not! Just do not charm your way out of this! You saw her! You saw her and you did not tell me!”  
“Saw who?” he asked. “Who do you speak of?”  
“Caladwen!” she roared. “My supposedly dead pretend mother! You saw her that day we went to the market in the village, and you said nothing! You knew who she was!”  
His face turned pale. “Tara, I…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.  
“What excuse do you have?” she demanded, thumping her fist against the desk. “How could you not tell me that she was still alive? How could you do that to me?” Fury was literally rolling from her in waves across the room.   
He had never seen her so angry, not even the day she’d attacked him in the forest.  
“Tara, listen to me,” he said, taking a step towards her and reaching a hand out.  
“No!” she yelled, backing up. “Do not touch me! You had no right to keep that from me.”  
“I was trying to protect you,” he said. “I know how much you have suffered, and I think you have been through enough without more for you to worry about.”  
“Since when did you become able to read my mind?” she hissed. “Since when did you know what is better for me than I do?”  
“I can feel your emotions, my darling,” he told her. “When you are upset, I can feel it. I feel your pain and your anguish.”  
“All the more reason to be part of the cause for that pain and anguish!”  
“How can you even think that?” he demanded. “All I have ever tried to do is to help you Tara, and you cannot deny that!”  
She fumed. “I can deny whatever the fuck I want,” she shot back, and he winced at her language. “That madwoman is wandering around out there, convinced that yet again I have taken something that belongs to her, and you decided to keep it a big secret from me? What in Middle Earth were you thinking?”  
“Her presence can only bring you more heartache,” he reasoned. “I was trying to save you from that.”  
She glared at him for a few seconds, and he jumped as she leapt towards him, planting both fists on his upper chest and pushing hard. He stumbled back a step or two with the force of the collision. She whipped round and punched the large ornate mirror hanging on the wall to her left. The glass shattered and shot to the floor in a cascade of splinters and shards. “Who is going to save me from you?” she screamed.  
He stared at her in open-mouthed horror as she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, once again slamming the door with enough force to reverberate along the entire length of the corridor. Stunned, he didn’t move. His gaze slowly shifted to the destroyed glass strewn on the floor, marked with streaks of blood where she had obviously cut her hand lashing out in anger.   
Moving slowly, he walked over to it and squatted down, lifting one of the shards. A deep sadness filled his heart.  
*****   
Tara stayed out if his way for the rest of the day.   
He knew she had gone to have her hand cleaned and bandaged, having checked with the healers a short while after she’d stormed out. Feeling emotionally drained and exhausted, he kept himself to himself for the remainder of the day and cancelled a few scheduled meetings. Feeling he needed some time alone to gather his thoughts, he spent the afternoon sorting through documents and filing them.  
He missed dinner, and somehow knew that Tara hadn’t shown up for her meal either.  
During the late evening he went for a walk through the gardens, allowing the crisp breeze to blow the cobwebs in his mind away. He closed his eyes and relaxed, becoming one with nature and closing his worries out.   
A whisper of a sound, inaudible to anyone’s ears except those of an elf, made him open his eyes, but he didn’t turn round. Within a few moments, Tara appeared at his side and sat down on the bench slightly away from him.  
She stayed silent for a while. “How has your day been?” she asked eventually.  
“Busy,” he replied.  
She nodded. “Did you accomplish a lot?”  
“Yes.”  
“What are your plans for this evening?”  
He shrugged, and she sighed.  
“If this is about the mirror-“ she began.  
“It is not about the mirror,” he said, cutting her off. Ice blue eyes met hers as he turned his head to look at her. “It is about you exploding in a temper that is out of control. It is about someone who is hurting and lashing out through anger, without thinking of what she is doing to herself and to those around her. It is about my not being able to bring you out of that fury and rage that has driven you for so long.”  
She held his gaze, unable to think of a response.  
“I think perhaps moonbeam is an inappropriate name for you,” he said, rising to his feet. “I think tornado would be more befitting.”  
She stared at his back as he walked away, disappearing round the corner from her line of sight. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. She had every right to be angry at his withholding information of Caladwen’s existence, she was sure of it. Keeping it from her served no purpose; she needed to know, and was unable to process why he hadn’t said anything.  
Loneliness hit her in an overpowering surge as she sat alone in the darkness. He wasn’t angry because she’d smashed the mirror. He was angry at her rage, and her inability to control it. He was angry at her exploding and venting it the only way she knew how. He was angry at not being able to reach out to her when she was like that, and her heart ached at the realisation that she was slowly but surely driving him away.  
He knew she had a ferocious temper. He’d always known, even when she was a child. He’d told her many times of occasions when she was little when he’d lift her up by the back of her clothes and carry her out of trouble, and she had been screaming and kicking like a wild thing. It had been comical for him and those around him as she was so tiny, but as an adult it no longer had that endearing appeal. As an adult, it was keeping him at arm’s length, and neither of them wanted that.   
She leaned her head back against the tree behind the bench, gazing up to the stars as though they held the answers to her problems. Knowing her anger was off the scale was one thing; trying to rein it in was another.  
And she didn’t know if she could do it.  
*****   
Tara spent the night alone in her chambers and cried herself to sleep. She knew she was wrong, and she knew she should never have flown at Thranduil the way she had.  
But she had so much hatred in her soul, and didn’t know how to expel it once and for all. Endless amounts of rage and anger constantly bubbled under the surface, despite her appetite for mischief and fun. Being unable to restrain it, she knew that she was facing the possibility that he had finally had enough.  
Dragging herself from her bed, she washed and changed, sending the maid away. Grabbing some fresh toast from the kitchens on her way past, she headed out to the horses, knowing at least she would find some sort of peace with them if not with herself.   
She was in one of the stalls feeding one of them when all hell broke loose.  
Guards galloped out of the palace grounds with several groups charging after them on foot, fully armed.  
“What has happened?” she asked one of the stable hands, exiting the stall as every soldier in sight followed their kin.  
“There has been a massive orc attack on one of the patrols,” the aid replied. “The King learned of it just a few moments ago, and has ordered the armies present to attend.”  
“Where is the King?” she questioned.  
“He is leading them, my Lady,” came the response.  
Her head whipped round as her mind raced. Her weapons were in her chambers, miles out of her reach. “Give me your swords,” she demanded.  
The stable hand’s eyebrows rose. “My Lady-“ he began.  
“Give me them freely, or I will take them by force,” she snapped.  
He gulped and quickly handed them over, stepping back hurriedly.  
“Thankyou,” she said, leaping up onto the horse she had been tending to. “Go up to my chambers and retrieve my weapons; you may need them before our return. Keep the palace and the animals safe.”  
The horse sprinted from the courtyard as she pressed her heels against his sides, his strong legs moving at speed as he chased after the departed group. The trees closed around them as they hurtled through the forest, the tracks of the guards easy to follow.   
The miles flew past, and before long, battle cries reached her ears. She urged the horse faster, and leapt from his back as she approached a scene of carnage.  
Orcs spilled out of the woods, attacking the elves with ferocity. Screams of terror and pain echoed around, and the stench of blood and death filled the air.   
Tara unsheathed the swords and charged into battle, her skilful strikes hitting home with every swing. Leaving a trail of destruction and death in her wake, she fought through the heaving mass and took down every beast within reach. Her anger came back to the fore, and the blades she wielded weighted practically nothing as she attacked. Screaming in fury, orc after orc fell as she slashed in a frenzy.   
Her heart stopped as she caught sight of Thranduil.  
An orc charged away from slaughtering one of the guards and leapt on him, sending the two of them crashing to the forest floor. Before she could take in what was happening, he was on his back with the orc on top of him. His sword was held up, pushing hard against the weapon the orc was trying to force down towards him. The vile beast had the advantage, and Thranduil’s blade was closing in on his throat as he struggled.  
She ran towards him, and with one single swipe of her blade, the orc’s head flew from his shoulders. Black blood spurted in all directions, the decapitated corpse falling harmlessly. Without breaking stride, she leapt over both it and Thranduil, spinning round and reaching down.  
He grabbed her hand and she hauled him to his feet, released him and turned to get back to aiding her friends.  
He grasped her upper arm and she turned back to look at him.  
A thousand unspoken words passed between them in the look he gave her, his ice blue eyes trying to say so many things with no time to say them.   
She gave a brief nod, and he dragged her closer, crushing his mouth against hers.  
“Later,” he promised, releasing her.   
The ongoing battle allowed them no time, as they both delved back in to assist their fellow warriors. Thranduil made a point of keeping Tara within reaching distance, never straying from her side as she fought as well as his own guards, in some cases, better. Her inner rage and fury seemed to bleed through her swords as she rallied against the enemy, and partnered with the discipline he had taught her in training, she used it to her advantage. Several times he had to duck out of the way of her spinning blades as she met every orc facing her in a head-on challenge to the death. Scores of the vile creatures met their deaths at her hands, and she continued ploughing through them with a tireless energy and purpose.  
Finally, after much bloodshed and pain, victory was theirs.   
She stood with her weapons still clutched in her hands, breathing heavily as she gazed around at the damage. Corpses littered the forest floor at their feet, black blood splashed over trees, grass, and warriors alike. The casualties were few for the elves, but nevertheless they had lost a couple of fighters.   
She lifted her head and locked eyes with Thranduil, reading the pain and the defeat in his eyes. Even though they had won, she knew he felt the loss of his guards deep within his heart, and would grieve sorely for them.  
Stepping over the body of an orc which was missing an arm and a leg, she picked her way towards him. He dropped his weapons as she approached, folding his arms around her in a tight embrace. She sagged and trembled against him, having missed the contact and the closeness overnight. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he spoke over her to the guards.  
“We will return to the palace, taking our fallen with us,” his strong voice said. Everybody had stopped to listen. “The patrol from the east region will remain here and dispose of the orc carcasses, and then continue towards home. A replacement patrol will be dispatched upon my arrival. We will tend to our lost ones, then rest. We have once again beaten the evil that attempts tirelessly to take over these forests, and will continue to do so.”  
Several warriors murmered their agreement, before moving to collect their dead. Tara remained in his arms for a few more moments, absorbing the closeness and taking as much comfort as she could from the security his arms gave her.  
Eventually she pulled back and looked up at him, with eyes bright with unshed tears.  
“We shall talk later, my darling,” he whispered. “There are more urgent needs first that I have to deal with.”  
She nodded, stepping away from him.


	29. Chapter 29

  **CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

****

The day passed in a chaotic blur. The exhausted and weary group of warriors returned to the palace with their fallen comrades, to be greeted by both helpful members of the community who wished to take the burden from their King’s shoulders, and grieving families. Thranduil handled both exceptionally well, taking the time to comfort each family as he always did, and assisting those who had turned out to help with the dead.

Horses were settled, meetings were held regarding border security and other matters that Tara didn’t delve into, and the pace of the day gradually slowed down as evening fell.

She had kept herself busy throughout the day helping the healers tend to the wounded and settling the horses, feeding and brushing them. Her own limbs ached, and various nicks and slashes she had received required slight attention. She eventually left the stables and headed up to her own chambers, where she soaked in a hot bath for over an hour. The maid who had been assigned to her shortly after her arrival fussed over her like a mother hen, much to her tired irritation. After a while she’d had enough, and asked her as nicely as possible to make herself busy somewhere else; she needed quiet time alone.

The helpful maid complied, leaving her wrapped in a fluffy blanket on the couch with her thoughts.

Shortly after her departure, a knock at her door brought her back to the present.

“My Lady, the King requests your presence,” the guard who stood there informed her.

She nodded, and padded after him, still with the blanket wrapped around her. Needing the comfort it provided, she kept it with her.

“My Lady,” he said with a bow as he knocked on the massive carved doors and opened them.

“Thankyou,” she said, and stepped inside.

Thranduil stood over at the window, his freshly washed long blond hair falling down his back. The burgundy robe he wore provided a beautiful contrast and her heart skipped a beat as she gazed at the ruler’s strong back.

He turned, his eyes meeting hers from across the room, and he walked towards her.

“Are you well?” he asked softly, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Yes,” she replied. “You?”

He nodded. “Yes. I am tired, but I have bathed and freshened up.”

“I did also,” she said.

Silence fell between them, and she clutched the blanket tighter around her.

“Tara-“

“Thranduil-“

They both started to speak at the same time, both breaking off.

“You go first,” he said, his tone gentle.

She swallowed, feeling her eyes begin to burn. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

That was all it took.

He stepped closer, sliding his arms around her and holding her tightly against him. She opened her arms, wrapping the blanket around both of them, and held on tightly.

“I need your help,” she gasped, in a mammoth effort to hold her tears at bay. “I do not know how to do this…I need your help. Please. Do not give up on me.”

He lowered his head and buried his face against her neck. “I shall never give up on you, my little moonbeam,” he whispered. “Never. That is my oath. I will always be here for you, until the end of time.”

Her body trembled against his. “All I have ever known is anger and hatred,” she said. “I do not know how to express anything else. And I cannot keep doing that because I know I will push you away, and you mean so much to me…you mean everything to me. Please help me to change…please, I am begging you.”

“You never have to beg anything of me,” he said quietly. “I need you as much as you need me, perhaps more. I am never going to turn away from you.”

“But I cannot keep doing this,” she said brokenly, as a tear slid down her cheek. “I am so sorry I lashed out at you. You do not deserve that. You were correct; all you have ever done is try to help me, and I took my anger out on you.”

“I understand why you were angry,” he said, rubbing her back in a comforting gesture. “Perhaps I should have told you about Caladwen, perhaps not. I do not know.”

She pulled back a little to look at him, her heartbreak clear in her blue eyes. “I know you were trying to protect me,” she whispered. “And I love you all the more for it. But I do not know anything else, Thranduil, only revenge and hatred…what have I become?”

“A beautiful woman who has so much promise and so much love within her,” he replied, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks to wipe her tears away. “You just need a little guidance to let that love out, my darling. That is all. You showed me how to love again, now I can show you.”

She closed her eyes as his lips pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, feeling his emotions flow through the simple touch into her body.

“I love you beyond anything in this world,” he whispered. “And nothing will ever change that. I lost you once, and I will not lose you again.”

“What if I cannot control my anger?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.

He read the despair in hers. “I will not allow you to push me away,” he replied. “What we have is too precious, too rare. I told you once before…I have never felt anything as strongly as this, and I am not going to walk away from it. What we have is worth fighting for, and I _will_ fight for it, with every beat of my heart. You are not alone any more, and you never will be. I am always going to be at your side, and when I am not for whatever reason, my soul will still be with you. You will never be alone again, I promise.”

Hot tears fell silently, and she sniffed as he cradled her against him again. His arms around her and the heat from his body gave her the strength she needed at that moment, and she took everything he gave her.

*****

“Prepare my horse,” Thranduil commanded, pushing his empty plate aside.

The servant who hovered around nodded, bowed, then swiftly exited the room.

Tara frowned. “It is late,” she commented. “Where do you need to go at this hour?”

He smiled. “I thought it might make a change to take my beautiful lady for a moonlit ride,” he replied. “I wonder if she would agree to such a request.”

One eyebrow lifted. “She may,” she said, leaning an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. “If she was wrapped up enough against the cold.”

“Ah, but she would not feel the cold, not settled in my arms,” he told her. “My warmth would be enough to keep her comfortable.” A wicked smirk accompanied his words as he rose to his feet.

She followed suit, taking the arm he offered as they walked out of the banquet hall. Stopping by her chambers to retrieve her cloak, he led her through the palace and out to the courtyard, where his horse was patiently waiting with one of the handlers.

“We shall return later,” he told him, positioning himself behind Tara and lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

“Yes, my Lord,” the handler replied, bowing and stepping away.

Thranduil swung himself up behind her, sliding one arm around her and taking the reins. “Are you warm enough?” he asked as the horse headed out and across the bridge.

She leaned back against the solid warmth of his chest. “Yes,” she replied, smiling. “You were right; I do not feel the cold like this.”

“As I knew you would not,” he told her.

They fell silent as they entered the forest, with the horse carefully picking his way through the undergrowth. Nocturnal animals skittered around going about their business, not bothered in the slightest at the large animal passing through.

“I wish to show you the beauty of the woods at night,” he told her. “We do not often take the time to appreciate that while we sleep, part of the forest wakes up and functions as the other part does during the day.”

She smiled over her shoulder. “I remember sleeping up in one of the trees not too far from here,” she said. “I was stalking a band of orcs with some friends, and we made camp for the night. The noise around us was louder than I had imagined; all the creatures that work under the cover of darkness soon made their presence known.”

“Yes. In one way or another, it is just as busy during the night as otherwise,” he replied. The horse continued to tread steadily, crossing through dense foliage and streams.

Eventually they came to a stop, and he helped her down after dismounting. Taking her hand, he led her through the darkness, knowing the animal would be content grazing where they had left him.

The trees opened out onto a small sheltered glade, which was home to a gurgling waterfall. Tara gasped as they came to a halt, mesmerised by the scene before her. The moonlight shone down through a gap in the canopy, sparkling off the water as it flowed down into a beautiful lake.

“Oh my God, this is beautiful,” she whispered. “Why did I not know this was here?”

He smiled behind her, sliding his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. Her hands automatically lifted and settled on his.

“Very few know of its existence,” he replied. “Only a privileged few, of which I am one, and now you are another.”

She leaned her head against his. “Thankyou for showing me,” she murmered, lost in the beauty that nature had blessed them with.

He lifted his head and turned her to face him. “Will you marry me?” he asked.

She gasped.

“Marry me,” he said. “Here and now. Become my wife. I love you, and I am never going to let you go.”

“Thranduil…I…I am not a high born elf,” she whispered. “I am not good enough to be your wife.”

He shook his head. “Do you think I care what your status is, how highly you were born, or otherwise?” he said. “No, my darling. I care about _you._ I care about what we have, the love between us. I do not care if you are Sindar royalty or a peasant gathering firewood. I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

“I…I…” She trailed off, lost for words. Yes, she loved this ellon with everything she had, but deep inside she didn’t feel worthy.

He lifted one hand and trailed the pad of his index finger down her nose. “I can feel your thoughts,” he said softly. “I can feel your doubts, your insecurities, your hesitance because you do not think you deserve the honour of marrying a King. You do. So you do not know your true heritage – it does not matter. What matters is the love we have, the way we feel about each other. Be my wife, Tara…be my Queen.” He watched her steadily. “Your name…your true name…Tarellethiel…means _elf queen._ Fulfil that destiny, my darling.”

The ice blue eyes that held her prisoner seemed to see right into her soul, and for a second or two she thought that he actually could. Her eyes searched his, but she could only find love in the depths.

“I love you,” she whispered, lifting up onto her toes and touching her mouth to his.

His arms immediately slid around her, pressing her tightly to him as he returned her kiss, responding with passion and desire. She gave herself completely to him, and he felt the change in her as her heart, her soul, and her mind opened to him.

She pushed his cloak from his shoulders, and he broke the kiss to lay it down on the forest floor, sinking to his knees on it and tugging her down with him. Never breaking his gaze, he slowly peeled her clothing from her before they both removed his. Surprised that she didn’t feel the cold in the slightest, she went further down onto the cloak as he rolled her over onto her back. Hot kisses inflamed a deep-seated burn to join with him and gentle hands caressed her curves.

Her eyes opened and she gazed into his in astonishment as he slowly pushed into her. A strong feeling flared to life within her entire body, like a strong pulse that throbbed and hummed in awareness.

“Do you feel that, my love?” he whispered, his mouth so close, it brushed hers as he spoke.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“Our souls have joined and become one,” he whispered, his soft lips touching butterfly kisses to hers as he began to move slowly. “We are now part of each other, and will forever be connected through the mists of time. We will always be able to feel each other when not side by side, and feel one another’s thoughts and feelings. You belong to me now, my darling, as I belong to you.”

Tears burned her eyes as her emotions welled up within her. Her arms tightened around his neck as she moved with him, savouring each powerful thrust and each tender kiss that lifted her higher and higher. He twisted away and kissed down her neck to her shoulder, his hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. Her head fell back as she arched even closer to him, tangling her fingers through his hair. He growled softly in response, sucking hard on her flesh. Strong teeth scraped her skin and she whimpered as she lifted her knees higher on either side of him.

The waterfall continued to bubble quietly at their side as they took each other further into pleasure, the moonlight sparkling on the surface. Thranduil lifted his head and gazed down at Tara, becoming still within her.

“Why did you stop?” she gasped breathlessly. “I am so close…”

He smiled. “I know,” he whispered. “I just wanted to look upon your beauty.”

Her heart thumped erratically, and her eyes drifted closed as his mouth touched hers, his hips pushing further into her again. She moaned into him, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm as he thrust into her again and again.

“Come for me, my beautiful wife,” he murmered in between soft kisses. “Come hard for me.”

She cried out into the night as her body exploded, gripping his tightly as she crashed over the edge into sheer bliss. His arms tightened around her, his skilful movements gaining speed, and he growled like an animal as he fired deep inside her. Soft, tender kisses touched her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth as they floated back to earth with gentle touches and caresses.

High above the forest, a chorus of bird calls rang out. Owls, eagles, hawks, and falcons made their voices heard in a united crescendo as they flew up and over towards the palace.

Back at the royal residence, elves crowded at the windows, gazing up into the night sky.

“What on earth is going on?” someone asked.

Legolas smiled. “Mirkwood has a new Queen,” he replied.


	30. Chapter 30

** CHAPTER THIRTY **

****

“You are the most beautiful elleth ever born,” Thranduil murmered, smiling as he pressed his lips to Tara’s bare shoulder and slid his hands around her waist. “The most exquisite creature to ever grace these lands.”

“Smooth-talker,” she laughed, tilting her head slightly as his mouth moved up the side of her neck.

“I am being serious, my love,” he said. “The only female who could even _possibly_ match your beauty is the daughter we will have some day. And then I will have a full time job protecting her from lecherous advances as she grows.”

She snorted with laughter. “I am not with child…at least, I do not think I am,” she said.

“No, you are not. Yet.”

“And you are already waging wars against unseen would-be suitors?” she teased, turning in his arms.

“Yes. They will not get anywhere near our daughter,” he grumbled, before turning his pout into a radiant smile. “Kiss me, my wife.”

She complied, sliding her hands up over his chest and over his shoulders as his warm mouth pressed insistently against hers.

The sound of someone clearing their throat next to them made them break apart.

“My apologies to the happy couple,” Legolas said, waving a glass of wine as he spoke. “I just wish to take this opportunity to congratulate you both, and to wish you every happiness.”

“Thankyou, my son,” Thranduil said, turning to embrace him.

The Prince turned to Tara, a devious grin on his face. “Well, would I be correct in assuming that now you are Queen, there shall be no more joining forces to prank my father?”

“Ha!” she practically yelled, tugging him into her arms for a hug. “Not a chance! If anything, our union gives me even more scope to come up with new ideas.”

“Give me strength,” her husband muttered, lifting two glasses of wine from a servant passing with a tray.

“Meet with me after the festivities,” Legolas whispered theatrically, shooting a mischievous glance at his father.

“Indeed she will not,” he shot back. “I shall have her otherwise occupied.”

His son groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. “Father!” he wailed. “Just…no!”

Thranduil smirked. “Then do not test me, my son,” he drawled, handing her one of the glasses.

She took the glass, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I think I should take my leave,” Legolas said. “My King, my Queen.” He bowed and left with a grin.

Thranduil shook his head, turning back to her, and his eyes softened instantly. “That dress just makes you look even more beautiful,” he said quietly as he ran a fingertip along the neckline.

Made in swirling, soft folds of fabric in a deep purple colour, it perfectly matched the cloak that she had made for him. He had commissioned his most trusted seamstress to design a gown for her to wear at the feast celebrating their marriage, and hadn’t been disappointed. It was cut off the shoulders and fell to her feet in luxuriously soft folds that swirled around her as she moved. In the weeks that had passed since her return to the market, she had patiently stitched the long flowing cloak that swept down his back in a graceful style.

His eyes followed his finger as he paused at her cleavage, darkening in colour as he lifted them to meet her gaze. A small smirk appeared, and she laughed.

“There is a time and a place, my love, which is not here or now,” she reminded him, leaning closer and stealing a kiss from his lush mouth. “We can explore that thought later.”

He grunted, accepting her logic and reasoning. “It is far too busy in here for my liking,” he grumbled as he sipped his wine.

She eyed him. “It is a wedding feast, is has to be busy,” she pointed out. “Come on, dance with me.”

“Now _that_ I shall gladly do,” he said and set the glass down. Taking hers from her, he took her hand and led her towards the middle of the floor. “I get to hold you so close to me, to touch you, to gaze into your eyes…”

“You, and no other,” she smiled up at him as he stopped and turned her to face him.

“And so it always will be,” he murmered. Taking her right hand and holding it tightly against his chest in his own, he slid his free hand around her waist as she settled her left hand on his shoulder. Ice blue eyes held hers as they moved slowly together, with neither of them looking away. The crowd around them faded into the background as they became focused only on each other. Soft music floated over them, but they didn’t hear it.

The world stopped and started with each other’s eyes.

*****

Elves everywhere were drunk.

Tara grinned as her gaze swept the massive hall, seeing her people sprawled out in all kinds of weird positions. Those who were still able to sit upright showed the promise of following suit before much longer, as they wobbled or lurched unsteadily.

Thranduil tightened his hold on her hand, leaning over to kiss her. “I must go a place,” he whispered. “I shall not be long, my love.”

She smiled, watching him as he gracefully rose from the table and walked towards the doors, stepping over and between slumbering bodies. His long blond hair swished against his back as he moved, and her heart tightened as she stared at him. He turned his head, knowing she was looking at him, and winked.

Her insides clenched in a flush of desire.

“Asira, would you pass me one of those sausages, please?” she asked, turning her attention to the loyal maid who sat a few seats away.

“Of course, my Queen,” she replied, hastily getting to her feet.

“Alright, that stops _now,_ ” she said pointedly. “Only use that term in official meetings and such like. I am still Tara; that will never change.”

Asira blushed. “The King would-“

“I can handle the King,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Now feed me, please. I am still _so_ hungry.”

The maid grinned as she handed her the platter, and Tara took one of the sausages, groaning in satisfaction as she bit into it.

“This has been a wonderful evening, my Lady,” Asira said as she set it down in front of her.

“Have you made any progress with the ellon who has caught your eye?” she asked, a twinkle in her own eyes.

The maid turned scarlet. “Oh! I…I…”

Tara burst out laughing. “Oh come on, it is so clear for all to see,” she said. “I think you should make your presence known, if you have not already.”

Her head lowered. “He would not notice me,” she said softly. “I am not of his status.”

She leaned forwards, resting both forearms on the table. “Look at me,” she said.

The maid lifted her head again and looked at her Queen.

“I did not think for one moment that the King would even look at me in such ways,” she reminded her. “I have no knowledge of my heritage, or where I came from, or anything of such matters. I came back into his life under terrible circumstances, but look at how it turned out.”

Asira gazed at her.

“Never give up hope,” she told her. “Where there is life, there is always hope.” She sat more upright. “And what is keeping my husband?”

*****

Thranduil swallowed, his rage bubbling close to the surface. The cold, sharp edge of the dagger pressed harder against his throat. The fist twisted into his hair tugged, tilting his head back further.

“You were a fool to marry her!” the voice hissed. “She is not good enough for you! She will not make you happy!”

“She is all I could ever need!” he growled back, wincing as the fist tugged again. “Do your worst. Nothing will separate us, ever.”

“You could have had me,” Caladwen spat as she leaned over him, glaring down at him from behind. “She has _nothing_ to offer you, nothing. I will take her place, and I will rule this kingdom at your side, not her. I will hack her to pieces and she will be fed to the dogs!”

“You are wrong,” he raged. “You will _never_ have a place in my realm! The only good thing that ever came from your presence was having Tara around! Nothing else! You brought nothing but pain, hatred, and darkness. You ruined her life, you ruined her. But you will ruin her no more! She has the strength to overcome what you did to her.”

“That was nothing to what I plan to do to her!” she said. “You will summon her, you will annul this farce of a marriage, and then I will get rid of her.”

He cursed inwardly. Having gone to his private bathroom in his chambers, he’d been caught unawares as he’d left and headed back to his wife. Caladwen had tripped him and pounced as he crashed to the floor, having hidden herself away from the few guards who hadn’t attended the feast. She had obviously taken advantage of the festivities, relying on the fact that most of the elves would be attending his wedding celebration, and sneaked her way into the palace. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply as he sensed Tara’s presence, a faint awareness that began to pulse.

He had to stop her from finding them. “Who died in the forest all those years ago?” he wanted to know, stalling for time as he tried hard to push against her presence.

“I do not know her name,” Caladwen retorted. “And nor do I care. I found her wandering collecting berries, and gave her some of the fruit I intended to give to that little brat. It was a simple change of clothing once she stopped breathing, and a way for me to make my escape.”

“You never intended to take your life at all,” he growled.

She snorted mockingly. “Of course I did not. I was going to end that little bastard’s life, and comfort you in your grief. But she evaded the orcs, and I had no choice but to disappear. I have watched her for hundreds of years, waiting for my chance.”

“You deserved to die out in those woods,” he said angrily. “You do not have the right to breathe air! You damaged that vulnerable child beyond repair, and you have nothing to show for it!”

“I have waited for centuries,” she hissed. “Now I will finally have what is rightfully mine!”

“Yes, you will…your death!” Tara’s voice echoed cloud and clear as she drove her sword through the elleth’s back, the tip coming to a halt as it exited her torso and touched Thranduil’s back. She released her grip and stepped aside, meeting her shocked gaze.

“You…you…” Calawen gasped, dropping the dagger and clutching at the sword. Her shocked eyes gazed at her in astonishment as the realisation that her plan had failed horribly hit home.

Thranduil spun around on his knees and grabbed Tara, dragging her down onto his lap as her nemesis reached blindly for her, wrapping his arms around her.

The stricken elleth fell to her knees, blood soaking the floor as it flowed from her body. “You will never be happy,” she spluttered painfully. “You will never know happiness…” The light faded from her eyes as she toppled onto her side, her final breath leaving her body.

Thranduil’s arms trembled slightly as he held his wife.

Tara turned to him, framing his face with her hands. “I love you,” she whispered, crushing her mouth to his. “I will always love you. With all my heart, with every part of me. I love you so much.” Her agonised whisper broke as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. He tightened his hold on her and buried his face in her hair.

“You should not have followed me,” he whispered, trying to control the tremor that coursed through him. “You could have been killed.”

“I sensed something was wrong,” she replied, her voice muffled against his neck. “I knew you were in danger, and I felt your anger.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “My anger has gone. It died with her.”

*****

Thranduil smirked, glancing over the documents in his hand as he strode towards his study. The dwarves were definitely pushing their luck with their latest request, and under different circumstances, he would have taken great pleasure in going through all the rigmarole of arranging a meeting simply to refuse their request. As it was, their kind had taken his wife into their protection when she was a child, so he felt he had to show them at least some courtesy.

He smiled and nodded to the guards who passed him in the hallway, going back to the documents as he pushed the door open to the study.

He stopped short as a flood of ice cold water cascaded over him, completely drenching him from head to foot. The metal bucket that had been balanced on top of the door clattered loudly to the floor, rolling away from him.

He heaved a sigh.

“TARELLETHIEL! LEGOLAS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...what can I say? Moonbeam has completely smashed my hits stats over anything else I've posted, and has completely taken me by surprise. Thankyou so much to all my readers, I appreciate every one of you and I hope that you enjoy my work as much as I enjoy creating it.
> 
> I'll be returning in a week or two with a new story which is underway; it's still in the baby process yet and needs a lot of input, but as soon as it's ready I'll begin posting. Hope to see you all there x
> 
> PS...I'm more than a little bit sad as I post the final chapter of Moonbeam...not quite sure why x


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